Understanding
by PBCD
Summary: One slip of the tongue can have far reaching consequences...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters and items quoted are not mine. However, I think we should put it to a vote. If I were given custody of them, I would quickly dispense with their problems and let them go at it like bunnies. Show of hands?

_A/N: I will be the first to admit this story has nothing much profound to say. I wrote it mostly as wish fulfillment, given that I suspect Series Two is going to be a bit of a trial for Anna and Bates (and by extension, us). It occurred to me how hard it must be to try to have a relationship when you never get more than a few uninterrupted minutes to talk. So, in this story I am giving them the gift of a slip of the tongue and time to have an actual conversation. _

xXx

Things had changed swiftly since news of the war had reached Downton. In short course, the young men were gone. Mr. Molesley, being too old to serve, was prevailed upon to help shore up at the estate. Male help was all but impossible to find, and therefore his services were greatly needed.

He didn't mind, not really. He rather enjoyed the more varied society at the grand house. Scarcity of men had also raised his wage substantially, even though he was doing much of the lesser work of a footman.

Another happy benefit of his new position was that he was regularly in the path of Anna. Closer inspection had done nothing to dissuade his earlier opinion of her. She was a nice girl—pretty, clever, and funny. She was quick with a smile or a little joke, providing a bit of cheer in the overworked, preoccupied servants' hall.

One question did continue to perplex him. Bates had assured him that she had an admirer, and a keen one at that. Watching her, he could detect no sign of such an entanglement. She didn't go running for the post or out walking on Sundays. She didn't seem to be burdened with worry for a sweetheart off to war. Maybe Bates had been mistaken. He wondered at it, as it appeared that he and Anna were friendly, but maybe the man had made a hasty assumption. Or maybe the admirer was no more. Either way, Molesley decided that it was very much worth a go.

xXx

Anna sighed as she began her mending. Industry had always benefitted her. It had made her strong and given her a bit of means. She preferred to keep moving—idle hands, her mum always said. She was rarely without her needlework. Before the war she had even spent her few leisure hours making lace and embroidered squares for the shop in Ripon. A few extra shillings could always be put to good use. Now any spare moments were spent knitting socks and scarves for the Red Cross, but she was happy to do her bit and didn't mind the work.

She did not find sewing so tedious when she had pleasant company, but the hall was all but deserted this afternoon. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes were occupied with their own matters, the young men were gone, and O'Brien rarely came down these days. It was strange, her sudden withdrawal, but Anna didn't question her good fortune.

Mr. Bates had accompanied Lord Grantham to London for a short stay, and there, precisely, was the reason Anna did not want to be alone with her thoughts. The longer she thought about him, the more frustrated she got. It had been nearly two and half years. To be honest, she felt a bit trifled with. He hadn't betrayed any reaction when she told him she loved him so long ago. Instead he'd told her he couldn't share his secrets with her, told her to dream of a better man, and carefully held himself back from any declarations.

There was no denying, though, that he'd also brought her flowers, speculated as to Mr. Patrick Crawley's true feelings, and very nearly kissed her in the servants' yard. He had encouraged her, that much was obvious.

She knew it had been foolish to declare her love for him so plainly. She was sure before she said it that he wouldn't return the sentiment. Even though he had called her a lady, and the finest he'd ever known, his delicate side-step of her feelings had stung.

She had been resilient, for a time. Full of hope that love would conquer all and that everything would somehow work out. Perhaps it had been more hubris than hope. She hadn't truly realized until the garden party that Mr. Bates may not share her determination, or even her desires. He seemed inert; unwilling to confess any further or move forward to resolve his situation, which left Anna helpless. Without his action, there wasn't really anywhere left for them to go.

The seeds of doubt had been planted, and for the first time Anna allowed herself to believe that maybe Mr. Bates wouldn't be hers after all. Much as she loved him, maybe she would have to let him go.

xXx

Watching her at her work, Molesley was struck again by how young and lovely she really was. He would be a very lucky man if he could win her.

He settled himself across from her at the table, placing his paper and tea before him. She looked up and met his eye, offering a small smile, which he returned.

He sat for several minutes trying to think of something to start a conversation. He rejected several possibilities as too eager, too dull, or just too stupid. He knew he was out of practice, but he hadn't felt this tongue-tied in years.

Finally it was Anna who broke the silence. "What news today?" she asked, nodding at his paper.

"The war, as usual. Bit of progress in Belgium, it sounds like."

"That would be wonderful. Good news seems so rare these days. It's hard being here at home. I wish there was something more I could do to be useful."

Molesley brightened. There was his opportunity! "My father and I were going to take some time this Sunday to make arrangements for the hospitals. We could certainly use a woman's touch. Would you like to join us?"

Anna was thrilled with the idea. A chance to be part of something, even so small as flowers, was wonderful. She would love the opportunity for an afternoon away from Downton—the walls had been closing in on her lately. "I shall have to speak to Mrs. Hughes, but if she is agreeable I would love to. Thank you, Mr. Molesley."

"My pleasure, Anna. We can walk out after church." Deciding he ought to leave while his fortunes were good, Molesley collected his paper and strode back toward the kitchen, a new lightness in his step.

xXx

Mrs. Hughes' consent was easily obtained, and Anna found herself becoming very excited about the outing. She couldn't remember the last time she had something simple and happy to look forward to.

Sunday afternoon found her spending an extra moment in her looking-glass. She had chosen her best dress and decided to liven it up with a bit of lace she had been working on for the shop before everything started. She couldn't see any harm in treating herself, just this once.

She hurried downstairs, not wanting to be late. As she entered the kitchen Mrs. Patmore greeted her.

"Aye, Anna. Nice to see a bit of sparkle in you today!"

She smiled at the complement and noticed Mr. Bates looking her way. He had perked up when Mrs. Patmore spoke and now regarded her curiously.

He must have liked what he saw, because he let his eyes twinkle, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She allowed her gaze to meet his until they were interrupted.

"Ah, Anna. All ready to go?" Molesley's chipper salutation rang through the kitchen.

She moved to greet him, but not before noticing a change in Bates' expression. Darkness had come over his countenance before he had quickly turned away.

"Yes, all set."

"Wonderful. Shall we?" He nodded toward the door.

Anna grabbed her bag and started to leave. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Bates and could feel his scrutiny. She couldn't bring herself to meet his eye. She was just going to arrange flowers. And why should he be concerned anyway? He'd made it abundantly clear where he stood.


	2. Chapter 2

Bates brushed at his Lordship's jacket with more vigor than was strictly necessary. What was Molesley up to? He saw the way he looked at Anna, even after their conversation. What kind of man didn't respect a woman who was taken?

What kind of man considers a woman taken when he's already got a wife? His conscience's unwelcome reply did nothing to improve his mood.

He hadn't seen her that happy in quite some time. She was dressed for going out and he had been trying to devise an excuse to accompany her when Mr. Molesley entered. She had looked radiant today. Mrs. Patmore had it exactly right-Anna sparkled. He had taken his share of punches in his life, but none so cruel as when he realized that it had all been for another man.

He tortured himself for a moment, allowing his imagination to sketch out their afternoon together. Would he take her to tea? Buy her a little trinket in one of the shops? Would she laugh at his jokes? Give him that bright, sunny smile? Would he tuck her arm in his? Would she offer him reassurance and encouragement about his new position at Downton, making him feel like he could conquer anything? Would he try to claim her next Sunday, and all the Sundays after that? Would she let him lean in and…

He squeezed his eyes shut and chucked the brush down on the bed, desperate to stop the images now flooding through his mind. He had no idea how he would manage if she actually took up with him. Downton was his livelihood. Would he be forced to watch them court, sit in the pew at their wedding, and then smile at the christening? His stomach churned.

He had made up his mind after learning of her visit with his mother. Anna had floored him with the lengths she had been willing to go to in order to clear his name and make it possible for him to stay at Downton. He owed her at least as earnest an effort to find out what had become of his wife, to see if there was anything he could do to extricate himself from that situation.

He didn't dare speak to her about it. It was such a slim hope. How could he track Vera down? What could be done if he found her? There were no grounds for annulment and divorce simply wasn't possible in his position. He could work for years and still be unable to pay the solicitors and courts. Moreover, he was already teetering on the edge of employability. Adding the scandal of a divorce to his already shameful past would be unsupportable.

No, it was best to keep the attempt to himself. He couldn't bear to raise her hopes and then endure her disappointment if he were to confirm there was simply no way for them. What was to say she was interested in waiting for him anyway? He hadn't missed the resignation in her voice when she left him at the garden party. Any sensible woman would realize how poor a prospect he was and look elsewhere-perhaps to a respectable man who could take her out walking on a Sunday?

xXx

Anna breathed in the scent of the early autumn flowers. They were all so lovely. She truly hoped they would cheer the men in the hospitals. Putting them together had turned out to be a lot of fun. Old Mr. Molesley was very gifted at his craft. He showed her how some arrangements were a study in color, tracing similar hues up and down through their varying degrees of intensity, while others were works of texture, contrasting tight, fragile buds with lush, open blooms. He told her the story of each flower—where it grew, what it meant, and what usefulness it had.

The younger Mr. Molesley worked quietly alongside his father, fetching and carrying this and that. He was obviously a devoted son, which Anna thought was very sweet. She wondered why he didn't have a family of his own yet. In another lifetime she might even have been interested. He was a bit dull for her tastes and did absolutely nothing to make her knees weak, but he was a nice man nonetheless. She was sure he would make a good husband, if he were so inclined. She resolved to try to discreetly determine his interest—there was a seamstress in town whose sweet temper might work very well with his. She could make an introduction if he was agreeable.

Catching herself before she got carried away, Anna warned herself not to meddle. She had just taken an awful risk on that front. Even though she knew it was worth it and would do it again in a heartbeat, the anxious days spent worrying that Mr. Bates might not forgive her intrusion into his past and family were a sobering lesson in the need to control her tendency to interfere.

They were just about finished up, she thought. The outing had been so nice—she hadn't realized how badly she needed to get away from Downton, just for a few hours. Her reserves had been restored and she thought she was ready to face another day, whatever that might bring.

xXx

His father had really liked her, that much he could tell. He was usually a taciturn man, so to see him chatter on so animatedly about the flowers had been heartening.

He had enjoyed himself as well. It had been pleasant to have someone to share the day with. He purposely kept his pace slow as they walked back toward the house, anxious to stretch the time they had together. He hoped she might agree to go with him again, and started working up his nerve to broach the subject.

"Perhaps," he began carefully, "you would like to go walking out again on your next half day? Maybe you could show me a bit of the estate. I would enjoy your company, if you are agreeable."

Unease settled in Anna. Has she mistaken the intent of today's outing? Had she given him encouragement? She groped for an appropriate response. "I am very flattered by your invitation, Mr. Molesley. Unfortunately I don't think that would be possible. I am not available to go walking out." It was as much as she dared say.

Embarrassed, he nodded. "Forgive me, Anna. I had heard that you had an attachment. I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position. I won't interfere again."

"You were told I had an attachment?" she repeated back, bewildered.

"Yes, Bates did say you had someone," he replied quickly, wanting to be done with the awkward subject as soon as possible. "I'm sorry that I didn't leave it there. I really didn't mean to cause you any trouble."

"Mr. Bates said I had an admirer?" There was an edge of something foreboding in her voice.

He kicked himself for letting that slip—he should have thought before he spoke. Anxious to put an end to the conversation he added, "I really do apologize. Shall we go in?"

She shook her head distractedly. "No thank you, Mr. Molesley. I would like to remain outside for a little while and get some fresh air. You go on ahead. I really do appreciate your inviting me out today. I had a very nice time."

He gave her a small smile and beat a hasty retreat toward the house.

xXx

The gravel crunched under Anna's feet as she paced the front drive and with each step her pique grew. What started out as shock had grown into irritation and now outright fury. How dare he!

She was glad to see him walking up the road toward the house—she had plenty to say to him and he was going to hear it whether he liked it or not.

He spotted her as entered the gate and drew up short, noticing the thunder in her eyes and not daring to come any closer. She wasted no time in closing the distance between them.

"You made a claim on me!" she hissed. "To Mr. Molesley, of all people! He is a perfectly nice man who would make an excellent prospect for a housemaid about to turn 27!"

"Do you like him?" he blurted out, before he could be sure he really wanted the answer. The very idea made him feel ill.

"I don't think you have the right to ask that. I have been begging for crumbs from you for two years, and now you've told another man I'm not available?"

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "That was not meant to get back to you."

"Of course not. Why shouldn't it make perfect sense that Mr. Molesley is more familiar with your feelings toward me than I am?"

"That is not the case."

"Really? You've been quite careful not to say anything to me. If I am not to be his and not to be yours, where does that leave me, exactly?"

"Surely you must know that I care very much for you."

"That won't do anymore. It's not enough."

"Anna, I have nothing to offer you."

"That's not true and you know it!"

"Nothing has changed in my situation."

"I understand that you don't believe yourself to be a free man. You say I don't know the whole truth, but anything still concealed at this point is your doing."

"What would you have me do?"

"Talk to me! Honestly and directly. Tell me what I don't know yet. Tell me what you're feeling and what you want. Stop thinking you know what's best for me and let us make a plan together."

He watched her, but gave no answer.

"I'm tired" she sighed, the fight leaving her as she sagged against the gate. "I'm just so tired. I entered service 12 years ago. Every month I'd send a bit home to my mum and lay most of the rest aside. I added my allowances and fees, plus anything I made doing needlework and lace. I've been able to set aside a sum over all these years. Not enough to live on, of course, but enough to have some options.

I'm not a silly little girl, Mr. Bates. I know my own mind and I've made my choice. I choose you. I accept that may not mean the future I'd initially envisioned, but I want a future with you in it, whatever shape that may take. I can't do it by myself, though. I need something from you. It's time for you to make a decision."


	3. Chapter 3

What, exactly, was he supposed to be deciding? Her words played over and over in his head as he tossed and turned that night. It was no question that he loved her and ached with wanting her. He had surrendered enough to stop denying that to himself, but he had pledged never to impose upon her.

She had left him out there alone, walking back into the house without waiting for a reply. She hadn't come down to supper that night either, which was probably for the best. He had no idea what to say to her and he could hardly keep from glowering at Molesley throughout the meal. A less admirable part of himself took heart in the fact that the man looked rather glum.

He thought he could gather that she wasn't interested in him, which was a relief. But he also conceded she had a point. He couldn't warn off potential suitors and still hold her at arm's length. It wasn't right. He was honestly appalled that he had done it in the first place, but in that moment he couldn't bring himself to offer up Anna to any man.

He realized he had the advantage and the comfort over the past year of knowing her feelings toward him. There were days when just remembering her voice as she'd professed her love was enough to get him through the dark moments. He had deprived her of that, but it had been for a good reason. How could he tell her he loved her but not be able to give himself to her?

Even now, his brave, amazing Anna had given him another gift, without assurance of anything in return. She had told him she wanted him, had chosen him, and was willing to accept his situation.

But how could he take that from her? How could he let her give her prospects away because of his mistakes? He had already ruined one woman's life; he couldn't abide the idea of doing it again just to satisfy his own desires.

He'd made his bed, and now it was time to lie in it.

xXx

He looked rough, she noticed, as he came down the next morning, and she was sure she didn't look much better. Sleep had eluded her most of the night. She knew she had drawn a line with her words, but there really had been no other choice. They couldn't go on as they were. They either needed to move forward together or she needed to figure out what she was going to do with her life.

Breakfast was awkward. At first she couldn't make herself look at him, but then she had felt ridiculous avoiding his gaze, so she finally brought her eyes up and caught him watching her intently. She offered him a slight quirk of her lips and he answered with a wan smile of his own. She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. At least that hurdle had been cleared.

"Is there a way we can talk today?" he'd asked her quietly as they went upstairs to start preparing everyone for the morning.

"I'm to go to the village this afternoon to pick up some items from the shop for the girls. They won't expect me back straight away. Can you get away later?"

"Yes, I expect so."

"I'll meet you in the kitchen after they're all settled."

He nodded and they went their separate ways. Her stomach was in knots for most of the day. She was glad he still wanted to talk to her after everything she had hurled at him yesterday, but was terrified of what he might have to say.

xXx

He met her as promised. The walk to the village was quiet. She quickly collected the articles for the girls, and they started back toward the estate. Neither one seemed to know how to begin the conversation.

Finally he stopped and turned to her. "I'd rather find somewhere we could be undisturbed. Would it be all right if we walked toward the orchard?"

She agreed and followed him as he moved off the road. He eventually stopped in a small clearing, satisfied they would have some privacy. He sat down on an old stump. She set down her basket and leaned against a nearby tree, facing him, unsure of her position or where she belonged.

"I owe you an apology. I should not have interfered with Mr. Molesley."

Her shoulders slumped. If she had hopes for this conversation, she was disappointed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He looked at her oddly, not expecting that reaction.

A strange calm came over her. If this was going to be the moment he let her go, she was going to speak her piece. She didn't want to look back and regret things left unsaid. "I wish you weren't sorry. I wish you were glad that you had claimed me. I wish you could tell me you loved me. I still love you—after all this time I think I love you even more. But I suppose that's not always enough, is it?"

She sounded so sad, and he hated that it was his doing.

"Anna, I wish more than anything that I was a free man and could declare myself. But the truth of the matter is that I can't erase the mistakes of my past. I have begun trying to find my wife, but it's going to be difficult, if not impossible. And even if I can find her there is likely nothing I can do to change the situation. "

"Do you love her?"

"No," he answered honestly, grateful he could at least give her that. "We were together only briefly and not for the right reasons. Things were different back then. I was different. It's not a chapter of my life I'm proud of."

"If you were able to find her would you want to…resume things? Live together as man and wife?" She choked a bit on the words.

"No. But I would still have an obligation to her. She is legally my wife and will be for the foreseeable future. Divorce is out of my reach, even if I could find her and something could be proven. Can't you understand, Anna? In my position I have no right to make any claim on you."

"I just don't see it like that," she sighed.

"What else could possibly be done?"

"I'm not going to beg you to love me. I can't force you to want this."

"Tell me," he implored, rising to stand in front of her. "If you have a way out of this I want to know."

She pushed off the tree and began to pace. "I don't see why we can't just love each other. Feeling it and denying it helps no one. It's still there, it's just making a misery out of it instead of a joy."

"But what could possibly come of it?"

"We could be happy. There is happiness in the simple act of loving and knowing you are loved in return. It may not be ideal, but it has to be better than this."

"Do you really think so? Or would it just be an exercise in frustration?"

"This is an exercise in frustration!"

"What about your future?"

"Do you think I haven't had the opportunity to marry someone and live an ordinary life? Is that really what you want? Do you want me to find some decent enough man and become his wife? Make a home with him? Have his children?"

Her eyes searched his while she waited for his answer. She could see him at war with himself and prayed that he would make the right choice. "No," he said finally. "I don't want that at all."

"Thank you," she breathed. "What do you want?"

"What I want isn't possible, may never be possible."

"We have more choices than just the obvious."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe we work hard and save for years until we can afford a divorce. Maybe we run away to America or Canada and start over. Maybe I work my way up to housekeeper and we get a big parcel of French letters and make use of my parlor."

"Anna!"

She laughed unrepentantly, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "Imagine the things you'd learn, John, if you'd just talk to me."

He still hadn't quite recovered when she continued.

"My point is that while I'd love to have a traditional life with you, I want you more than I want that. If I could be secure in your affections and commitment I would be content with whatever we could manage."

"I could never ask that of you. You deserve better."

"You're not asking. I'm offering. And shouldn't it be my decision?" She looked deep into his eyes, willing him to hear her and believe her. "There is no better man for me than you."

He reached out to draw the backs of his fingers over her cheek. When he spoke his voice was softer than she'd ever heard it.

"I do love you. I have loved you so long, and I will love you until the end. I'm sorry you ever had cause to doubt it. I wanted to protect you."

She took his hand in hers. "I know that, but I need you to promise me that this is end of it. From now on you trust me and you don't decide things for me."

"I can do that."

"Do we have an understanding, then? I'm not going to go walking out with other men. I'm going to dream of you when I lie down at night. I'm going to find a way to touch you anytime I think I can get away with it, and God willing, I'm going to grow old with you and love you a little more each day."

"Yes," he answered with a joyful smile. "And do you understand me? I'm never going to look twice at another woman. Every day I work will be for you. I will do everything I can to take care of you, and the minute I am able I am going to make you my wife."

"Yes," she smiled back at him.

She let go of his hand and he cupped her face, pulling his thumb over her lower lip. Her eyes slid shut and she leaned up to meet him. Slowly, so slowly, he fit his lips to hers.

Her hands went to his waist to steady herself, and she tried desperately to memorize every moment of their first kiss, the last first kiss she ever hoped to experience. He was a little shy at first, but when she sighed and shifted a bit she felt his response and the pressure of his mouth on hers became firm and searching.

Eventually they parted and she dropped her forehead against his chest, enjoying his warmth and breathing in the scent of him. His hand came to her back and he held her tightly.

Sooner than he wanted to, he pulled back, putting a little distance between them.

"I wish that could be all there was to it, but unfortunately there is more we need to discuss."


	4. Chapter 4

Her eyes were wide and wary as she stepped back from him and waited.

He didn't really want to begin. For one brief instant things had been perfect and now he was about to ruin it all.

"You may have guessed that the question of his Lordship's return to the army would come up eventually."

Dread settled in her as she nodded. She wrapped her arms around her middle as if she could insulate herself from what she suspected was coming.

"When we were in London he took several meetings at the War Office. It seems that when he came back from Africa he swore to her Ladyship that he would not return to battle and he means to keep that promise."

She relaxed a bit at that—it was something, at least.

"They were still keenly interested in his services, however. There is plenty that can be done from London—recruiting and training, logistics, and the like. Her Ladyship has given her blessing and he has agreed to reenlist for a London posting. He asked me to accompany him."

She didn't need to ask whether he had accepted.

"What will you be doing?"

"I don't know, to be honest. My army career ended, quite decidedly. Neither his Lordship nor I know if I will be accepted to reenlist. Officially or unofficially, though, he would like me there."

"And you want to be there as well."

"Not all of me. There is a part of me that wants nothing more than to stay here with you. But I fear this isn't going to be the kind of war that can be forgotten in the background, and I don't think England will soon be victorious, either. If there is anything I can do to be useful and to help it come to an end, I feel like I must."

"You are a good man, John."

She came to him and laid her hands on his chest, realizing that the privilege, so recently granted, would be taken away from her soon. "When will you leave?"

"A week. Maybe two at the most. "

"I will miss you," she sighed.

Lost and struggling for words, he didn't reply right away. Finally he was able to voice the fear that was troubling him. "I understand if this changes things for you."

She looked directly at him, the warning in her eye contrasting with the hand soothing over his heart.

He dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I'm sorry. It's still a little hard to believe that you would…"

"I will. I am."

"What do we do now?"

"We wait and hope for the best. You serve to the best of your ability. I keep working and write you hundreds of letters. "

She wrapped her arms around him, imagining that by holding him close she could keep him with her always. She murmured her next words in his ear. "I love you with all my heart and you remember that you are worthy of it. We go to sleep every night knowing that I am yours and you are mine. "

He held her tightly, a little overwhelmed at the picture she had painted. "You make it sound easy," he finally replied, his voice rough.

"It won't be," she said, with a quaver of her own. "But it's the best we can do with what we have. "

He ran his hand over her back, trying to comfort them both. At first it was relaxing, but eventually his strokes became slower and longer, tracing from her shoulder to the swell of her hips. He drew his fingertips over her spine, causing her to shiver and draw a sharp breath. He eased back and looked down at her.

There was a new urgency between them. Dropping his cane, he took her face in his hands, and moved flush against her, leaning them both against the tree. His mouth found hers and he kissed her hungrily.

She opened her lips beneath his and coaxed him to her. The new depth seemed to inflame him. He crushed against her, using his weight to pin her while she raked her fingernails down his back and pulled him even closer.

She felt a snap and jumped in his arms with a small squeak of surprise. She pushed him back, disentangling them. "Drat!"

"What?"

She reached up and removed her hat. She dug around a bit and pulled out a pair of wooden hair sticks, causing her plait to unwind and fall from its bun. One of the sticks had a jagged crack that left it practically broken in two. She inspected them and then tucked them into her pocket. "That's that for those, I suppose."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away."

"It's all right. The price was more than fair for the experience."

She grinned at him impishly, and he couldn't help kissing her again.

"I remember the night I came to you when you were sick. It was the first time I saw your hair down and not covered with a cap or hat. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. " As he talked he toyed with the strands that had come loose.

"Oh I'm sure that was a sight. I can't imagine how messy it was, and I'm certain it was very attractive paired with a red nose and tired eyes."

"You were beautiful," he repeated firmly.

She slid her arms back around him, resting her head on his chest. They were quiet for a while, just enjoying the feel of being together.

When he spoke again it was with an unsure voice she wasn't accustomed to hearing from him.

"Anna, would you…"

"Would I what?" she asked when he trailed off.

"Nothing."

She tilted her head back to look up at him, melting at the bashful look on his face. "What?"

"Would you take your hair all the way down for me?"

The breath left her. He might as well have asked her to take off her dress for as intimate as the act was. She colored and looked down.

"I shouldn't have asked. Forgive me."

She raised her head and stretched to give him a soft kiss. She pulled back then, and, eyes never leaving his, drew her plait over her shoulder and removed the small strip of cloth knotted at the bottom.

His eyes dilated and he stood, transfixed, as she worked her hair free. When she finished unraveling it she ran her hands through the entire mass and shook it loose, leaving it to tumble over her shoulders. She smiled up at him and tilted her head in invitation.

He accepted unreservedly, burying his hands in her hair and drawing her to him. He kissed her long and deep, all the while stroking the length of it. Satisfied, briefly, he turned his attention to her jawline, kissing his way along to the sensitive spot below her ear before moving down.

Mothers and vicars must have been in charge of designing ladies' dresses, she decided, because the buttons running down her back kept his progress frustratingly stalled at the middle of her neck. She writhed against him, whimpering her need, but it was to no avail. There was simply no further he could go within their current constraints.

They slowed down, sharing a few more languid kisses before separating completely in an attempt to collect themselves. There was so much more he wanted to do and her expression assured him she felt the same, but the afternoon had gotten away from them. A quick check of his pocket watch revealed it was already half past four. They would have to hurry back to the house to avoid being missed.

She hastily replaited her hair and used the one surviving hair stick to fix it in a precarious bun. With her hat over it, it would get her back inside without attracting attention. He retrieved his cane, picked up the basket, and led her back toward the road. A few steps down, she stopped and took the basket from him. At his questioning look, she reached over and replaced it with her hand, lacing her fingers with his. She knew she would have to let go once they got to the lane, but she wanted just a few more seconds as lovers.

She needed all the memories they could make to sustain her for the long separation ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

She had been absolutely right, of course. The first night he spent with her in his heart had been the best he'd slept in as long as he could remember. It was as if his body instinctively understood what his mind was still struggling to grasp. She was his. He was hers. They were settled. The most important things had been worked out and decided. Everything else was just a matter of circumstance.

In the cold light of morning, however, he found it all a little unlikely. What would a young, vibrant woman want with him and all the disappointments that came with? He stopped himself firmly, remembering that he had promised to trust her. Still, he felt quite vulnerable in his surrender. He wondered if she had any idea how broken he would be if she took back the lifeline she had offered. He'd had to patch himself together more than once in his life and he wasn't sure if the plasters could withstand another cataclysm.

He got a bit of reassurance when he found that she had been entirely serious about touching him at every available opportunity. He soon became accustomed to the warmth of her hands on his thigh under the table, squeezing his as they passed in hallways, or brushing against him just out of view. He felt a little empty when they couldn't manage to make contact.

They had found only a few private moments over the course of the week. When news of Lord Grantham's departure became known, the house was thrown into a tempest of activity. Hundreds of items had to be sorted and packed, plans had to be made to address the running of the estate, and the parade of callers and well-wishers seemed never-ending.

He caught her once downstairs, pulling her into Mr. Carson's pantry and kissing her soundly almost before she knew what was happening. She returned the favor a few days later, pouncing on him as he left to run an errand in the village. She pulled away just as quickly, giggling at his dumbfounded expression, and slipped back into the house before he could draw her back.

It was bittersweet, the touches, kisses, and laughter—a glimpse of how nice it could have been. He hoped he was making the right decision.

xXx

Too soon, the awful day arrived. She slipped out of her bed well before the dawn, dressing quickly in the dark. They had agreed to meet in the yard before sunrise, knowing it would be their last opportunity together. They would be expected to partake of a civil and decorous parting later. This time was only for them.

She crept down the stairs and through the kitchen, drawing back in surprise when she ran into Daisy getting ready to stoke the range and set the water to boil. Anna said nothing, merely giving her a level look and slipping out the back door. She trusted Daisy to keep her confidence; the girl had grown up a lot in the last few months.

He arrived just a few minutes later, sitting down next to her on the old crate. He took her hand in his own, pulling it up to kiss before entwining their fingers. She laid her head on his shoulder.

She had thought they would talk, but when the moment arrived all of her words seemed superfluous. She couldn't think of a thing to say that would change the situation or make it any better.

Finally, though, he did speak. "I did miss you. Terribly. That week you went to London with Mrs. Patmore. I would turn to say things to you and be surprised when you weren't there. It felt like half of me had suddenly gone. I hadn't realized until then how much of the happiness in my life comes through you.

Daisy was her typical self that week. Did anyone ever tell you that story? She got it into her head that the family would prefer Mrs. Bird's cooking and there wouldn't be a place for Mrs. Patmore when she was well again. So she set out to spoil the food and added soap and water to our soup one night. Mrs. Bird caught her out and she started crying and confessing. Once she got going she didn't seem keen to stop. She told us she'd been planning to put syrup of figs in the next night's stew.

A few of us had a chuckle, but that was the end of it. If you had been next to me where you belonged, we would scarcely have been able to control ourselves. I would have looked at you and there would have been no hope of containing the humor of the situation. I can't imagine what it's going to be like to live without that. My day starts and ends and is filled with you."

Tears threatened as his heartfelt words washed over her and she ached with the thought of what they would both be missing. She brushed her lips over his, needing the connection. Instead of satisfying her, it simply lit a fuse, triggering a flare of desire. She kissed him again and scrabbled inelegantly until she was atop him on the crate, balanced on her knees, hands clutching at his shoulders. Fueled now by passion rather than sense, she took his lower lip between her teeth and bit. That elicited a groan from him and his hands came to her hips, but instead of pulling her close they held her firmly where she was, stopping her from molding herself to him.

He would not yield, so she turned her attention back to his lips. She drew him into her mouth, soothing where her teeth had been, and then moved down, pressing kisses along his jaw and throat. She ran her tongue over the rough skin and was rewarded with what could only be described as a growl. His breath was coming in rough pants as she tried again to get closer, but he kept her fixed. With a frustrated whine, she leaned forward to at least bring her chest to his, wanting as much contact as possible.

In the next instant, two things happened nearly simultaneously. They heard the clang of the gate from the coalmen arriving and she was placed back on the crate next to him, a respectable distance away. She blew out an annoyed breath and swore that someday she would be with him where there were no prying eyes or ticking clocks.

It took him a while to meet her eye and when he did she was at a loss. Their time was up—the moment was here. In the end she just couldn't force the word "goodbye" out of her mouth. It felt too final. Instead she had held him tightly and whispered "I love you" in his ear, trembling when he did the same.

xXx

Even with the dawn the day turned out to be appropriately gloomy. She remembered the gray, the calm, the dread, and the anticipation in that chilly October morning. What was left of the staff assembled in the drive as he and his Lordship took their leave and got in the car. He had squeezed her hand as he made is way down the line and she had to look away so as not to cry. She had promised herself she wouldn't. He deserved a better memory of her than that.

She watched until the car was no longer visible at the end of the drive then turned to go in.

"Anna?"

She looked up and saw Mr. Molesley standing at the kitchen door.

"I just wanted to say that if there is anything I can do to be of service, as a friend, I hope you will let me know."

She met his gaze and in it she saw knowing and compassion. She nodded, a little embarrassed, and took a deep breath to collect herself. "You are very kind. Thank you."

He gave her a small nod in return and moved to go back into the house.

"Mr. Molesley?"

He turned back to face her.

"Have you ever made the acquaintance of Sarah Adams? "

xXx

"Post for you, Anna."

She accepted the letter from Mr. Carson. She had a few minutes before she needed to attend to Lady Edith, so she quietly slipped outside. She turned the paper over, tracing her name written in his firm hand. It was the first letter she'd ever received from him and she was mesmerized at the idea that he'd touched it and held it just days before. She slid it open carefully.

_My darling Anna,_

_I apologize, but I must be very brief this time. I have scarcely had a second to myself since we arrived. Nearly every moment is occupied with settling us in, meetings, and endless dinners every night. What free minutes there are, however, have been filled with nothing but thoughts of you._

_I did want to let you know our location as soon as possible. The address enclosed will be our residence for the foreseeable future. Oddly enough, Grantham House is being used for other quartering and assembly space, so we will be lodged in the barracks. It is comfortable enough and convenient to the command offices. Like everything else in London, though, it is rather gray without your presence. _

_I will close now with you in my heart, as always. I hope that you are well and I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Ever yours,  
John_

She was touched and a little relieved. Some irrational part of her had feared receiving a letter that opened with "Dear Miss Smith" and went on to comment about the weather and the quality of the food.

She smiled and tucked the envelope into her pocket. She would begin working on a reply just as soon as the girls were off to dinner.

xXx

She kept her promise, writing him at least every other day. She tried to keep her tone light, filling the pages with amusing happenings at the house, encouragement, and reminders of her love. Unfortunately on this particular night her mind had been intractable, unwilling to focus on the light and mundane. She began to write, indulging the track of her thoughts, thinking if she could just get them out the urge would be satisfied and she could tear up the paper and write him a proper letter.

_John,_

_The nights are the hardest, and when I miss you the most keenly. The days are filled, overfilled really, with enough to keep my mind occupied and body exhausted. Later, in the dark, with nothing to do but think, I am inevitably consumed with you._

_What would have happened, I wonder, if my dress hadn't gotten in the way that afternoon? Would you have done what I desperately wanted? Would I have known afterward more than I ever have up until now? It would have been such a delight to feel your hands on me, claiming my body the way you once claimed my affections. Would your lips have followed your hands? _

_And that last morning. If only you hadn't been so shy and let me rest tightly against you. I wanted to share that part of you. Would you have let me know you and touch you the way I desired? _

_Sometimes I can feel nothing put the warmth of your skin or the heat of your breath against me. I make up beds and mend stockings only to find myself suddenly overcome with the memory of the way you kissed me and wondering what the future might bring in our next moment alone. Does it surprise you that I think of these things? Sometimes I surprise myself…_

_All my love,_

_Anna _

Too tired to start over, she tucked the paper in her tablet and blew out the candle. In the morning, she reread what she had written. A wicked thought occurred to her. Why not send it? After all, they were in love and promised—it was only natural that there would be a corporeal aspect of their relationship. She felt like he'd been holding himself in check when they were together, but the twinkle in his eye during more unguarded moments hinted to her that this was not his true nature. If she could give him a little push, maybe she could break through his reserve. She was sure she'd enjoy the spoils.

She hurried downstairs and added her letter to the post, running back upstairs to get started before she could change her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

His leg was playing up today, making each step painful as he dragged his tired body back to his quarters. It had been a very full day, like every day lately. Even now he had less than an hour to wash and change for dinner before he had to attend to his Lordship.

His situation had been sorted in their first week. He would not be accepted for reenlistment, but he would be employed by the War Office as a civilian and assigned as Lord Grantham's personal assistant. Accordingly, his Lordship would not be provided with a batman. Bates would be quartered and boarded with his Lordship and would have broad privileges at the barracks and command headquarters, but he would carry no official rank and would not be entitled to veterans benefits. It was less than he had hoped, to be honest, but it was better than nothing. His Lordship seemed satisfied with the arrangement and they'd settled into a routine easily.

He had stopped to collect his post on the way in and was pleased to see a letter from Anna. She had been faithful, writing him frequently even when he couldn't always return the favor. He hoped she truly knew how much her letters meant to him and how happy he was when they arrived. Deciding that he could spare a moment, which was no decision really as he had precious little self-control where she was concerned, he tore the letter open and lay back on his bed to savor it.

And then he promptly sat back up, stunned and ablaze at the words before him. The image of her alone at night, with those ideas in her head and putting them to paper for him, was more than he could take in. He often found his thoughts turning in a similar direction, but had never imagined daring to include them in his letters, not wanting to take liberties or offend her.

She had surprised him, pleasantly, with her openness and enthusiasm for the physical side of their relationship. It was she who had first alluded to it when making suggestions for their possible future options. That remark still haunted him. He'd barely made it through the hygiene lecture he'd been forced to attend when the topic had been addressed.

She had seemed so sure of herself in the times they were together, with no questions or doubts about what she wanted or what they were doing. He envied her sometimes her fearlessness; the kind that could only be borne of being young and heart-whole. Of the two of them, it seemed that he was the one who was ill-equipped to manage. He simply didn't know what to do when one found a nice girl and fell in love with her.

He wasn't inexperienced, of course. Even before his marriage he'd had a young man's desires and a young man's imprudence. It had been fun at first—satisfying his needs and having a few laughs with a girl he fancied in the moment but seldom thought of later. It had taken a darker turn in Africa as he'd begun looking for an outlet for the ugly things welling up in him. He'd indulged in drink and followers, sometimes desperate to feel nothing and other times fervently struggling to feel anything at all. He considered himself fortunate to have never woken up with more than a hangover and regret.

He'd been nearly as indiscriminate back in London before marrying Vera. After that disaster had come prison and the darkest of his years. He'd shunned all contact, drowning too deeply in his own despair to be of use to anyone else. And then, when he'd finally determined to turn his life around, he knew keeping control of his baser instincts would be necessary if he hoped to redeem something of his life. He hadn't accounted for Anna.

His time with Lord Grantham had made an impression on him. His position as valet was by circumstance an intimate one. Absolute discretion was required because there was simply no way to serve without learning a great deal about his Lordship's private affairs. From listening to him talk in Africa and handling the impressive volume of correspondence between the two, he understood quickly that his Lordship's marriage was a happy one. It was even more apparent in their home. By his third morning, when he'd entered the dressing room to find the bed undisturbed yet again, he gathered that her Ladyship welcomed his company.

It seemed ideal to him. Lord and Lady Grantham were very much in love and enjoyed each other physically without shame or inhibition. He could recall a few awkward instances when he'd arrived to assist his Lordship only to discover that he was most indisposed, given the noises coming from the chamber next door. Once he had been forced to come back three times before finding his Lordship, relaxed and jovial, ready to start the day.

What they had was exactly what he wanted, but he could not afford to forget that his circumstances were not the same. Anna was not his wife. They were not a couple with long years of affection and understanding between them. She had written of kisses and touches—could she understand the powerful urge he had to bury himself inside her? As she had said, she knew so little. Was she ready for that side of him?

Part of him was sorely tempted to respond in kind. He wanted to tell her about the feverish way he recalled thrusting his hands into her long, beautiful hair, the velvet of her tongue on his skin, and the soft crush of her breasts against his chest. He wondered if she would be shocked to hear that every morning as he shaved he couldn't help but think that his washstand would be just the right height to boost her atop so he could explore all of her before he took her.

Mostly, though, he knew it wouldn't be right. He had no idea how long they'd be separated and to start something so incendiary so soon seemed like a dangerous proposition. He was afraid that if he lost control over the intense desire he felt he would not be able to act with her best interests in mind. Even with her bold statements to the contrary, it felt wrong to enjoy too much of intimacy when they could not be joined together properly. He couldn't promise to wait forever, but he wasn't willing to give up on the idea of their wedding night just yet.

He did not want her to be embarrassed, though, or to think her desires were unwelcome. They most certainly weren't. He struggled for a few days, trying to find the words to explain himself. It ultimately came to him later in that week when he went to call on his mother. As he walked toward her flat a display in a shop window caught his eye. He smiled and knew he had his answer.

xXx

They would not be keeping Christmas in anywhere near the grand fashion it had previously been celebrated at the great estate, but they did try for a bit of cheer, hanging evergreen boughs and pulling out the decorations that had accumulated over the years. The war, as so many had loudly predicted, was most certainly not going to be over anytime soon, and many in the house had separations weighing on their hearts. Still, they made the attempt, for the day's sake.

Two days before the holiday, Anna received a small parcel. Unfortunately it was thrust into her hands right as the family had sat down to breakfast, so she had been forced to tuck it away and get to work. She found herself somewhat content to wait, nervous about what his response might be to her last letter. Each day that passed had been more uncomfortable than the last and she second-guessed herself constantly. Had she gone too far? Did he find her frank words to be vulgar? Had he accidentally opened her letter in company?

At last she got a free moment to run upstairs to the privacy of her room. With trembling hands she undid the wrapping and found a note.

_Dearest Anna,_

_It is evident, my naughty girl, that you do not appreciate the very serious work we do here or you would not have sent me a letter that left me addled for days and still drives me to distraction whenever I call it to mind. Not that I complain, mind you, but you do know how to torment a man._

_Rest assured that my nights also seem endless and are always filled with dreams of you. When I close my eyes I still feel the way your body fits against mine and can see your lovely face smiling up at me. If we had done all you described, what I promise you we both wanted, it would have been impossible to tear myself from you. I long for the day we never have to be parted again. _

_As for the enclosed, I hope they prove to be a bit sturdier. I can't promise to be any more restrained the next time I have you in my arms._

_Happy Christmas, my love. I pray that the next one will find us together._

_Yours always,_

_John_

She turned her attention to the small package, tearing off the brown paper covering and opening the box. Inside was the most beautiful pair of hair sticks she had ever seen. They were a delicate ivory color, intricately carved, and topped with a set of cut glass beads held on by a band of stamped silver. They weren't extravagantly expensive, but they were by far the nicest thing she owned. She traced each one, first moved that he would buy them for her, and then stirred by a frisson low in her stomach as she realized what he must have been thinking of when he did.

She wore them on Christmas day, feeling like she had a bit of him with her. She thought she understood what he was trying to tell her. She loved that for all of his careful reserve and self-control he could never quite help letting a bit of passion peek through. She couldn't wait for the day when he would have no reason to hold back any further.

The muted celebration of Christmas faded into a bleak and bitterly cold winter. It seemed almost impossible that spring would come again, but of course it did, and soon enough summer. John and Anna kept working, kept writing, and kept hoping. For the most part she honored his restraint, but every once in a while she couldn't help but slip a little tease into a letter. Sometimes, very rarely, he surprised her by doing it too.

On the whole, she was able to keep her spirits up. She gave into a private fit of temper when John explained that they would not be taking their annual leave, but was able to get herself under control and send a regretful but understanding reply to that disheartening news. He hardly ever mentioned Vera, and only to say that while he was still trying, nothing had turned up yet. She tried not to get too sad when she got those letters, and took comfort in the fact that he hadn't given up.

xXx

While his duties and attentions to Anna took up the lion's share of his time, Bates was still determined to work on finding out what became of his wife. He had written dozens of letters to her family and old acquaintances from those days, looking for word of where she might be. He even visited their old neighborhood during his infrequent free afternoons, hoping some trace of her still remained in their former haunts.

Despite his efforts, there had been very little progress. More of his letters had been returned as undeliverable than received responses. He fought very hard against it, but each week with no result dimmed his hopes.

It was not until nearly a year after having been posted to London that he got his first bit of useful information. He had written to her sister, who eventually replied to inform him that while no one had heard from Vera in at least two years, their father had turned up again, running a lodging house. She suggested calling on him, as he might have new information. She couldn't tell him the exact address, but she had heard it was in Shoreditch and near the rail station.

He was heartened by the news. It wasn't much, but at least it was something to go on.


	7. Chapter 7

Bates surveyed the filthy lodging house. With his limited free time it had taken him several weeks to find, but he believed he was finally in the right place.

For a long moment, shame burned inside of him. It hadn't been all that long ago that a place like this was familiar territory. Not long enough to forget, anyway. Half a bob for a bed and board, when you could scrape it up.

The conditions were appalling—beds shared in shifts by all comers to the margins of society, rats scurrying about boldly, a foul stench hanging in the air. The only grace, he supposed, was that most of the men were too numbed by drink to notice the squalor.

He walked into the attached pub and approached the woman behind the bar.

"Is Mr. Weaver the proprietor of this house?"

"It's Weaver's. What's it to you?"

"I need to speak to him. Is he here?"

She looked him up and down. He wasn't a rich man, she saw, but he still looked too good to be here. He didn't look like the law, but this wasn't a place for people making inquiries. "What you want him for?"

"I would like to speak to him about his daughter, Vera."

"Wait here."

Shortly thereafter, a thick man entered the room, slinging a rag over his shoulder. He approached Bates. "I hear you're looking for my daughter. What you want with her?"

"Mr. Weaver, it's John Bates. I need to find her."

The man's head snapped up and he looked at Mr. Bates critically. "Bates? You don't look like I remember you."

"It has been a long time. I've been unable to locate Vera for nearly 10 years, but it's urgent that I find her."

"Well you won't find her here. She hasn't come to see me in years, don't know why she'd start now. Last I heard of her she wasn't living too far from here, in Brick Lane, but that was a while ago."

Bates hesitated for a moment. He felt like he should say something, but what? An apology? An explanation? How could he possibly account for himself to this man, her father? He hadn't been a much of a father, but still. Vera was his child and John had assumed responsibly for her.

In the end, he simply thanked him for the information, eager to leave the pub and get as far away from this period of his life as he possibly could. He was disappointed not to have found out more, but he supposed he could at least be grateful this new lead.

He dared not pull out his watch, not on this street anyway, but he could tell by the setting sun it was time to head back to the barracks. He would have to continue later.

xXx

Each successive outing took him further into the underbelly of London. It took some time, but he had managed to find people who knew of her in Brick Lane and over the next several months he had been directed through the surrounding slums—Aldgate, Poplar, Stepney—tracing what seemed to be her descent into hell. This week he had come to Limehouse, where he had heard she was living with a man called Hatcher who worked at the docks.

Hatcher, predictably, was nowhere to be found, but while asking around he was able to find a constable who knew of Vera. He informed John that she had been taken in several times for petty crimes, but the last time she was set before the magistrate they had brought her to the workhouse infirmary due to her ill health. It had been quite some time ago, but he had given him the name, Whitechapel Union.

xXx

The rumpled man looked him over with disinterest. "You're not here to sign in, are you, Gus?"

"No, I'm looking for someone I'm told is here. Could you help me?"

"Looking for what?"

"I'm looking for my wife. We were separated and I'm told she came here. I need to find her."

"What's her name?"

"Bates. Vera Bates"

"Vera Bates? Short girl? Ginger hair?"

"Yes, that does sound like her."

"Wait here."

Bates stood outside the workhouse, trying to ignore the curious stares of the men and women passing though the yard. As dark as his days had once gotten, he had never fallen in here. By the grace of God alone, he supposed, he was always able to scratch up just enough to get by. He had heard stories, of course. Most of the men at the lodging houses had been in at least once. From what he could see, it seemed that much of what they said was true.

His stomach roiled at the idea of her in this place. It sounded as if they knew who she was, which likely meant that she had been here. Maybe was still here. If she was, what was he going to do? He couldn't very well leave her here—he owed her at least that much more.

He sank back against the side of the building, disgusted that they had gotten to this point. He would never forget that horrible night she had returned from the dinner, carryall laden, and hidden it in the attic. She must have thought that she wouldn't be suspected, the wife of a Corporal. Or maybe she had thought they could leave quickly and wouldn't be found. She couldn't have been thinking clearly, in any case. When the officers came, banging at the door and demanding a search, she had slipped out the back and into the darkness. By the time they found what they were looking for she was long gone. As he turned to face them, he knew he had only one choice.

She hasn't attended his court martial. Hadn't contacted him in prison. Wasn't there when he was released. He'd looked for her after he got out, but hadn't been able to find any information. He assumed she didn't want to be found and decided it was probably for the best.

He had been 33 when he made it back from Africa. He was posted to a barracks in London, but nothing was the same. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't settle. Couldn't leave the terror behind. Drink had helped back there, and he found the same was true in London as he gravitated toward the pubs of the East End. He felt at home—no one expected anything of him, and no one wanted anything but the money for his whiskey. That was where he met Vera.

She was tiny, young, and reckless. She didn't ask about his leg, which had healed up pretty well but still left him a half-step behind. Instead she matched him, drink for drink, and clung to his arm, screeching with laughter at everything he said. When he bedded her that night he found her not to be an innocent, but not so experienced as to suggest a profession, either.

They were married just a few weeks later. She was easy company, awed enough by his age and experience to let him lead. He was sure she would make him better—with her he would be able to forget. He would make them a life and the past would fade away.

It hadn't happened like that, of course. He still couldn't sleep, couldn't settle. He managed to perform his duties passably, but each night was devoted to drink. She tried, at first, but soon enough her admiration faded to indifference as she saw him for the old, damaged drunkard he was. Had he not been so wrapped up in his own misery he might have noticed her own appetite for drink, her attentions to other men in the pubs, or her habit of slipping away with one of her admirers once he was too far gone to care.

It had all come to a disastrous end that night. What only they knew, what he had never been able to speak to anyone, was her reason for stealing the silver. His pay was not nearly enough to support his own habit of drink, let alone hers. They had taken a house near the barracks after they were married and were behind three months on their rent and about to get tossed out. Something had to be done, and she had done it.

It was entirely his fault. A better man would have provided for his family. A better man would have taken her out of those pubs and given her a respectable life, guiding her along the right path. He would have been able to forget the past and give her a future. Unfortunately, John Bates was not that man. Going to gaol for her seemed the lightest sentence he could pay for the ruin that was now her life.

A slim man with a dour face appeared in front of him, interrupting his thoughts. "Mr. Bates?"

"Yes?"

"I am Mr. Clarkson, the administrator. I understand you're looking for Vera Bates."

"Yes, I am. Is she here?"

"To verify, Mr. Bates, you are looking for Vera Bates, nee Weaver, born 23rd July, 1887?"

"Yes, that is her."

"I regret to inform you that Mrs. Bates has died. Pneumonia. It was nearly 10 months ago."

He reeled at that news. Even though he knew it was possible, given what he had learned of her life, he was still unprepared for the reality. What she must have suffered…

"I see," he finally answered. "Where is she now?"

"She listed no family and no one came to claim her. She has been buried in the yard here."

Buried. In a common plot at a workhouse. His failure was complete.

The man thrust a form at him. "Here. Take this to the registry office. They will give you the paperwork you need. I'm sorry for your loss." Not bothering to wait for a reply, he turned and went back into the building.

Numbly, Bates walked back out of the gate. He started toward the registry office, not really seeing anything around him, and arrived without quite knowing how he had gotten there. A kindly woman had shown him to the records desk. He presented the form the workhouse man had given him. The man behind the counter scanned it and pushed it back at him.

"Take it to the clerk with sixpence. He'll give you a copy of the registered certificate."

Still in a fog, he did as he was told. A few pennies and a piece of paper and his life had taken a revolutionary turn. One horrid chapter was closed forever, and a new one could be opened, if he chose. It was all too much to contemplate at the moment.

He made his way back to the barracks and carefully stowed the forms in his case. He sent word to his Lordship that he was ill and lay down upon his bed, certain that sleep would not come that night.


	8. Chapter 8

Three weeks later, they were headed back to Downton. It had been a difficult decision last year, but they had decided to forego a return to the estate in order to help in the efforts of conserving coal and rail capacity. They were responsible for preaching the message, and it didn't feel right to ask others to make the sacrifice but not be willing to do it themselves. Two years away from home and family, however, even with a London posting, was too much to ask any man to bear, and so they made their arrangements for August with a clear conscience.

He hadn't yet told her what he had learned. He needed some time alone with it, and it didn't feel like something that could be included in a letter. Everything would have to come out-the whole grim tale. She deserved nothing less. What would she think of him? Would she still want him? Was he even entitled anymore?

They arrived back on a Saturday. He hadn't dared let himself think too much about seeing her again, and so he was nearly overcome at the sight of her in the drive as the car pulled up. Grantham looked at him oddly and he quickly drew out his handkerchief, feigning a cough. The flash of joy that came with standing in front of her was briefly able to overtake the heaviness in his heart. The way her eyes shone when they met his, and the warmth he felt as he squeezed her hand in greeting were almost able to tempt him into believing that things might somehow be all right.

There was no time to talk, of course. Once Lord Grantham was swept inside by his wife the servants hurried back in to resume preparations for the family's supper. Mrs. Hughes directed Anna upstairs to assist with laying the table and Bates had to go unpack for his Lordship, but he was able to catch her for just a moment, asking her to walk out with him the following afternoon. She agreed excitedly before rushing off. He felt nothing but guilt at her smile, knowing that what lay in wait would surely extinguish it.

Sunday was bright and warm, a rarity to be thoroughly enjoyed. She had noticed quickly the previous day that he seemed distracted, as if he had something weighing on his mind, but she knew there was no point in trying to pull it from him. It would come out in his own good time, and so she kept her conversation light as they walked.

"It looks like we'll soon be having a wedding at Downton. "

"One of the girls?"

"Mr. Molesley, actually. He has been keeping company with my friend Sarah from the dress shop for quite some time now. I talked to her last week when I went to pick up material and she said that her sister saw him come by to call on their father alone during the day."

He felt a tiny bit of solace at the news. While he trusted Anna wholeheartedly, he didn't mind the idea of the man who had once admired her being otherwise occupied. "Will he be leaving the house?"

"As it happens, there is one set of married quarters. I overheard Mr. Molesley and Mr. Carson discussing it last week. I think he means to stay, so long as Sarah agrees. I didn't say anything to her, of course, but I expect she'll have a new dress to work on soon enough."

Bates felt a moment of bemused sympathy for the poor man, unsuspectingly caught in the web of feminine intrigue. It faded, however, as the burden of what he needed to tell her settled back upon him.

They had gone toward the orchard again. It was the best spot near the estate if one wanted to be let alone for a while. As they moved through the trees he knew he needed to quit dragging his feet and get on with it.

"Anna, there's something I need to talk to you about. Could we stop here? Maybe sit down and get comfortable?"

She nodded and tried not to be too concerned at the gravity in his voice.

She offered him her shawl and he spread it on the ground in front of a tree before working himself down. She sat next to him and he surprised her by turning her a bit and pulling her back against his chest. He wasn't sure he could look at her face while he told her what he needed to, but couldn't seem to make himself let go of her either. He wrapped his arm around her waist as she settled into him. It was the first real contact they'd had since he returned and she had to close her eyes against how good it felt. She couldn't help but turn in his arms to kiss him. He responded briefly before righting her and taking a deep breath.

"You know I've been working on finding Vera these past months. Since I got word of her father I've been devoting most of my spare time to tracking her. "

"Yes," she replied. He had told her little bits about his efforts in his letters.

"A few weeks ago, I was finally able to find out what has become of her."

She was confused and apprehensive at this. Why hadn't he written with the news? Whatever his reason, it couldn't be good. "What did you find?" she finally asked when he didn't continue.

"She has died. She's actually been dead for several months now."

His announcement left her breathless. Vera was gone. He was free. Everything she had firmly refused to let herself dream about was now within their reach. But something didn't seem right. He didn't seem to welcome the news. It was sad, of course, but she had expected him to be relieved, or even a little excited at what this would mean for them.

"I'm sorry," she offered awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"That's exactly what the workhouse administrator said. 'I'm sorry for your loss.' She died in a workhouse and no one came to claim her. They buried her there. Her family didn't even know until I wrote them."

"It's good that you were able to find her for them. It must be a small kindness that they don't have to wonder anymore."

"I'm not a hero in this. If anything, I'm to blame for what happened."

He started talking then, telling her, just a little, about Africa and how the things he'd seen and been forced to do had affected him. He tightened his arm around her, as if he could shield her from the terrible choices he'd made and what they had cost—a price she too had been forced to pay these last few years. He told her about meeting Vera and his foolish, impulsive decision to marry her. He choked out the whole story about the silver, how he'd failed to provide for and protect his wife and how he'd then found himself in prison and alone. He didn't say much about the years after, before he'd arrived at Downton. Some parts of the past didn't need to get resurrected.

When he was done, when he had run out of words, she turned and, ignoring his protests, gathered him up in her arms, pulling him into her and firmly refusing his attempts to draw back. Eventually he relaxed and buried his face in her neck, his breath uneven. She thought she felt a bit of moisture on her skin, but didn't call any attention to it. She wondered if she could get him to see sense. It was obvious he felt responsible for Vera's fate, but what of her part in it?

"You're a good man, John," she assured him softly. "You are a kind, decent man who has had to endure too much. You've stumbled a few times, but you've tried to put things right and you've made something of yourself now. For better or worse, the things that you've lived have made you into the man I love today."

He shuddered at her words and her heart broke when she realized he'd thought that would be in question.

"I'm not like her."

"No," he confirmed. "You're definitely nothing like her."

"What I mean is that it's not the same situation. You said she was very young and it doesn't sound like she had a very good family. She may have been looking for rescuing more than she was looking for a husband. And I doubt she was equipped to be a wife. She couldn't have known what you needed and might not have had it to give even if she did."

"What's more," she said, pulling back to look at him, "is that you weren't in any position to be a husband. I know you went through a very difficult time after the war. I can't imagine you would have been able to be a proper partner to anyone. Not then."

She waited until he met her gaze. "I know you feel responsible, but she has a role in all this too," she said, gently as she could. "You both made mistakes. She could have owned to what she did, or at least stood by you during it all. She also might have tried to find you over all these years—I doubt it would have been difficult."

"Perhaps," he allowed. "But she would have had no reason to expect a better man."

"Even after what you did for her? I think that would at least merit an attempt."

"I don't know if I can be forgiven for what became of her. I owed her more. In some ways it doesn't feel right to look for my own happiness now. I'm not sure I deserve it."

At the stricken look on his face, Anna closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, praying for patience. "What a waste it would be to spend the rest of your life stuck in the past. You have so much more to offer. She's never going to get a second chance, and that's terrible, but you fought hard to make one for yourself and it does no one any good to throw it away. Sacrificing yourself won't change anything that has happened. It can only serve to extend the pain—for everyone."

She got to her knees and took his hands before continuing. "Forgiveness is going to have to be between you and God. In the meantime, the best you can do is learn from your mistakes and do better the next time around."

A weight fell from his shoulders and he smiled for the first time since he'd gotten the dreadful news. "The next time around?"

"Yes," she answered simply. He could swear he saw a whole world of promise in her eyes.

"I don't know," he said, uplifted so much by joy and relief that he was unable to resist teasing her. "I rather liked that idea about your parlor."

She laughed. "I like the idea of our parlor better."

He sobered a bit. "There's no time, is there?"

"No, I suppose there isn't. It would take weeks, even if we just did it at the registry office."

"I promised you that I would make you my wife the minute I was able."

"I remember, John. I certainly don't think you're trying to get out of it." She grinned up at him. "This war can't go on forever."

He fell quiet for a minute before speaking again. "I can do better, Anna, and I will. I promise you that."

"I know you will. You're going to be a wonderful husband."

"Thank you," he whispered. "I don't think I'll ever be able to show you how much I appreciate the faith you've had in me and everything you've given me these past years."

"I don't know about that," she answered, eyes twinkling. "I could offer a few suggestions, if you need them. But I can't imagine you really will, if I remember correctly."

The way she was tracing her fingers up his arms was rapidly clouding his thinking. He felt a twinge of conscience as his body responded to her, but he reminded himself of the truth of her words. He needed to keep the past in its proper place if he ever wanted a future. And he did want their future, desperately.

She eased his jacket from his shoulders and he shrugged it off. In the space of the next minute she had undone his waistcoat, pushed it and his braces over his arms, and was pulling fistfuls of his shirt up. He jumped as her hands made contact with his bare skin.

"Too fast?" she asked. "Sorry—I've had a lot of time to imagine since you've been gone."

His mind raced at the idea of what she could have possibly been imagining. He pulled her close, assuring her with a strong, deep kiss that she was welcome to explore as much of him as she wanted. She raked her hands over his chest, digging her fingers into the patch of hair and enjoying his warmth under her palms.

She moved to straddle him, but stopped and broke their kiss when she felt his hands come to catch her. The disappointed look on her face was quickly replaced with a wide smile, however, as he pulled her in tightly. She settled herself against him, thrilling at the intimate contact. He groaned and she answered with a sigh of her own as she rocked her hips.

He brought her mouth down to his again and spent several long minutes exploring her before moving to press open-mouthed kisses along her neck. His hands had moved from her hips to span her waist and were now glancing along the sides of her chest. She had been optimistic enough at his invitation to ensure that the placement of the buttons on her dress would help his progress this time, rather than hinder it. He hovered over them, pulling back to ask the question with his eyes. She nodded and he swiftly undid the top four buttons, leaving her neck and collarbone open to his ministrations.

She startled him a bit later by reaching up and undoing the next six, the permission she was granting unmistakable. He traced his fingers over her and she exhaled raggedly. Emboldened by her response, he cupped her breasts, pushed up by her corset but unfortunately still covered by her chemise, and ran his thumbs over the hardened tips. He followed with his mouth, dampening the thin cloth and causing her to shriek.

She held tightly to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she reveled in the unfamiliar but delicious sensations. She threw her head back and ground against him, acting on instinct, not really aware of what she was doing.

Every single movement shot through him with a jolt of pleasure. He was starting to lose himself over to passion. When he felt her hand reach down between them and begin brushing against him curiously, he let out a guttural moan and lay back, pulling her down against him and then rolling them over.

He was above her, and she was tangled around him when it seemed to occur to them that there was wasn't much more than fabric holding them apart anymore.

"Anna," he managed, breathless and panting, "I need to know what you want. You've mentioned things before. Where do you want to stop today?"

She struggled to regain her wits. "I know I've suggested some bold things, John, but I hope you understand that all of that was always my second choice. If I can have you as my husband…"

"I do understand. I want you. God, you must know how I want you, but I want you as my wife."

"So we're agreed. We're not going to make love just yet?"

"No. Not yet." He began to pull himself off of her, but she wrapped her leg around his and held him in place.

"And so, then, if it's decided that we're not going to be making love," she purred, sliding her palms along his chest and smiling at the exasperation on his face, "whatever else we dream up to do, here alone this afternoon, so long as we don't make love, would be all right?"

"Well, yes, I expect so," he replied, unsure of what he was agreeing to but bewitched by her hands moving over him.

"Good," she replied, and resumed her assault.


	9. Chapter 9

In everything but its destination the train ride back to London was much improved from the outbound journey. He could relax, warm and content with a fresh set of memories to sustain him and hope for more in the future. Her Ladyship had not been at all pleased at the duration of their separation and had evidently found a way to reinforce her position to his Lordship because there was no more talk of foregoing their annual leave. He caught more than one reference to "next year" in Lord Grantham's conversation. Bates, of course, made no protest. While their intentions had been good, the idea of denying themselves again was unthinkable in the wake of this past week.

He smiled at the memory of Anna, intent on taking full advantage of their opportunity and inventive in her means of pursuing pleasure. By the time the sunlight began to fade that Sunday their hands had explored each other's bodies thoroughly, their location having precluded risking much more. He had inspiration for a thousand dreams now, knowing what her voice sounded like as she keened with need, how her frantic breaths felt against his skin as she rose toward the crest, and the way her body would arch up into his when she reached it. He could close his eyes and recall her smiling down at him, unabashedly encouraging him to find his own release under her determined caress. If he concentrated hard enough he could still feel her pressed tightly to his side, resting her head on his chest in the aftermath. He had never felt so loved as he did that afternoon and he vowed to spend the rest of his life making sure she felt the same.

Later, flushed and sated, their clothing restored, they made their way back to the house. She had kept her hand in his arm as they got to the lane and he had no inclination to separate them, curious to see how far she'd go in publicly claiming him. She'd held steady as they walked closer to the estate and he finally looked at her, making the query with a raised eyebrow. She smiled back at him and tightened her grip.

"Once we're back inside the gate you'll have to be Mr. Bates again," she told him "but until then you're my intended and I don't want to let go." Her words made him fervently wish they were back in the orchard, but he had to make do with a tiny kiss to her cheek before resuming their walk.

As it happened, her resolve would soon be tested when they saw Mrs. Hughes rushing toward them on her way to the village for some late errand. As promised, Anna didn't back down, greeting her as if there was nothing notable about the situation. Mrs. Hughes' eyes flickered, but she said nothing, nodding and hurrying along her way. That battle won, they spent the rest of the walk in companionable silence until they arrived at the gate. At that point Anna dropped his arm and walked resolutely through, the very picture of decorum.

The rest of their precious week flew by. They stole a moment here and there to indulge, but mostly they slipped into their old routine. As much as he delighted in their interlude, he was as deeply affected by the simple act of sharing the day's rhythms with her again; greeting her in the morning, eating his meals at her side, reading the paper to her as she sewed, and longingly bidding her goodnight on the stairs. She still knew how much milk he liked in his tea and he still helped himself to half of her biscuits, if only for the fun of watching her pretend to be miffed. These simple quotidian details were what almost broke him as he packed his case for their return trip.

Once arrived in London, it hadn't taken long to get back to work, but it had taken much more time for their spirits to readjust. After the fond memories of the visit faded both Bates and Lord Grantham found themselves gloomy and snappish as the weight of what they were giving up settled upon them. They had recovered by autumn, a grim determination replacing their feelings of want. Winter was endured only with the hopes of spring and with spring came thoughts of summer and another week's reprieve from the bleak business of war. As the days faded into each other, time ceased to be linear. Entire months passed in seconds and some afternoons lasted ten years.

Through it all John and Anna had kept in constant contact. Before, he had occasionally believed himself too busy to match her frequency in writing but a brief taste of her corrected that misapprehension. He took to keeping pen and paper with him at all times and no matter how busy he got he never let more than two days go by without writing. He had come to realize than an extra hour of sleep or a properly eaten meal meant nothing if he had to let go of any bit of her.

If their letters became more unguarded, it was only to be expected, given the change in their circumstances. There were a few he kept very carefully stored in his quarters, only to be brought out on the very longest of nights. There were some he sealed extra carefully before placing them directly into the post box himself. It was all they had, and so it would have to be enough.

xXx

Lord Grantham approached him several weeks before their planned leave in September and explained that her Ladyship was greatly in need of a change of scenery and hoped to travel to London to spend his leave time there. Bates tried his best to hide his lack of enthusiasm until his Lordship mentioned that Miss O'Brien and Anna would be accompanying. At that news he heartily endorsed the plan.

Grantham House still being occupied, Lady Cora and the girls would take suites at Claridge's. Lord Grantham would stay with them during the week, as would Bates, albeit in servant's accommodations, which still offered many comforts the barracks did not. His Lordship assured him that his demands would be kept to a minimum so that Bates could retain something of his respite. He hoped Anna might have some similar freedom.

For her part, Anna counted down the days to their departure, completely unable to sleep or sit still for the last two. Mrs. Hughes eventually pulled her into her parlor, warning her to calm herself before she completely frayed her nerves. Her stern words were cloaked in empathy, however. They had never spoken directly of their meeting on the path last summer, but Anna knew that Mrs. Hughes was aware of her situation and took her silence if not as approval, at least acceptance.

When the day finally came and the long train ride had been endured, Anna goggled at the grand hotel. It had been completely rebuilt less than twenty years ago and no expense had been spared. She thought it strange that she would be so awed, given the opulent surroundings at Downton, but she had never lost her sense of wonder there, either. As she was shown to her quarters, Anna came to realize she was a long way from her simple country roots. The back half of the fourth floor was reserved to house servants and even in their relative modesty the rooms were so much more than she was accustomed to. Each small chamber was private and en suite. As such, the hotel enforced no separation between the genders. Anna could barely fathom the idea that she and Mr. Bates would be spending the week right in that same corridor with nothing but their own doors between them.

It wasn't until she spotted him in the front hall that she was able to settle down a bit. He had arrived with his Lordship and was directing a porter where to put the various cases when she emerged from the lift. She hung back a moment and just regarded him, taking in his familiar features as he efficiently sorted things out. She could see the army in his manner, even if he wasn't in uniform, and watching him, confident, competent, and commanding respect, had a visceral effect on her.

Her reaction must have been apparent on her face, because when he looked up and noticed her his eyes darkened and he held her heated gaze for quite some time. There was nothing they could do in the crowded lobby but clasp hands and bid each other a formal hello, but she knew he noticed how breathless she was and she caught the rasp in his voice as he inquired about their journey.

He was ushered away to his quarters, and when she encountered him again later one glance was all it took to confirm that he had realized the implications of the situation too. What, if anything, it could mean for them remained a mystery, but they were both very aware of the possibilities.

xXx

She was able to manage a generous amount of free time. Apart from the usual morning and night routine the girls also changed outfits for their afternoon activities and evening events. However, after attending to them at those times she was at her leisure and therefore had plenty of time to spend with John.

They usually walked out in the mornings and explored the surrounding parks, sometimes wandering far afield and other times finding the first convenient bench and talking for hours. One day he had taken her to see the barracks and command buildings where he spent the bulk of his time. After they ate lunch they were needed by the family again, but were able to meet for tea later. The hotel featured a pianist in the afternoon and they enjoyed listening to him play as they relaxed on a plush settee. Sometimes he read while she wrote letters, just savoring being next to each other.

Once everyone was sorted for the evening, they ventured back out. They dined simply, deciding they'd rather splurge on a trip to the theater one night and a few visits to the music halls. He loved watching her there—her full-throated laughter, her enthusiasm for the music, and her sweet voice when the crowd was invited to sing along were more compelling to him than anything on the stage.

He felt so proud to walk around town with her, still amazed that she had chosen him. She loved getting a glimpse of the life he led when he was so far away from her. The pains he took to make sure she was happy and comfortable—taking care to always walk on the street side, patiently stopping every time she wanted to look in a store window, and gently wrapping her in his jacket when her shawl wasn't enough to fight the evening chill—made her feel so cherished and protected that she couldn't help but fall a little more in love with him in every moment they were together. They grew wistful as the days passed, knowing that each hour brought them closer to their inevitable separation.

xXx

The only person who could possibly be more excited than John at Anna's visit was his mother. It became apparent during their first conversation, shortly after arriving in London, exactly how much of an interest she had taken.

"So," she had begun, scarcely waiting until the tea had been poured, "tell me about this Miss Smith who turned up on my doorstep."

"She is the Head Housemaid at Downton," he replied, hoping to end this line of inquiry straightaway. She had asked plenty of questions in her letters, but those had been easy to evade. It was much harder to dodge while sitting directly in front of her.

"And?"

"And what?"

"What else?"

"What else do you wish to know, Mother?"

She sat back in her chair, too old and far too wise to run in circles with him. "When she was here she asked me if you had been violent, back then."

His face burned and he felt ill that she had been forced to consider that, even though it was logical given what she knew of his past.

"The reason I mention it, John, is that it's not the kind of thing a woman would ask when she's simply trying to be of service to a friend. But it's a perfectly sensible question for a woman who is considering you for her own." She fixed him with a hard glare that left him a boy of 12 again. "So I'll ask you again to tell me about this very nice, very young girl and what she might understand about your situation."

He conceded a little, telling her about his early days at Downton and how she had fought for him and offered her friendship. He acknowledged that something more had grown between them and that, with Anna's full knowledge, he was looking for Vera. He didn't tell her about their understanding. While he hoped she would come to accept it if he and Anna were forced to make a drastic decision, he didn't see any good in mentioning it now, not wanting to borrow trouble.

He was sure she suspected that there was more he wasn't saying, but she kept her own counsel and pledged any assistance she could offer in tracking down Vera. When he told her the news about her death he could see the unbridled happiness in her face, though she recognized how upset he was and tried to comfort him. After his trip to Downton he confirmed to her that he and Anna were to be married. He had been surprised and touched when she refrained from her usual prying and teasing and simply offered her congratulations while dabbing at her eyes.

On hearing the news that Anna would be visiting she insisted he bring her to call. She would make arrangements to leave work early on Saturday and cook dinner for them. Anna was thrilled with the idea and looked forward to it all week.

"Mrs. Bates," she smiled when his mother opened the door to greet them. "It's so lovely to see you again."

Once they were inside the older woman pulled her into a warm hug. "None of that, now. Call me Margaret. Though I do look forward to sharing the name when this dreadful war is over."

"Me too," Anna replied, squeezing her one more time before letting go. "Thank you for going to all this trouble. It's so kind of you."

They sat down to eat while Mrs. Bates and Anna chatted enthusiastically about sewing and dresses. He kept back, not really interested in the discussion but pleased at the obvious rapport developing between the two of them. He drank his tea contentedly until his mother turned his way and mentioned, with mischief in her eyes, that she had seen their old neighbor Mary last week. He groaned inwardly, knowing what was coming.

"Yes," she continued. "She asked after you. I told her about your work at the War Office. She said to thank you for your service—she would have been proud to have such a husband."

Anna looked between them curiously, entertained by the mirth on Mrs. Bates' face and the mild vexation on John's. He turned to her and explained "She never ceases to find this story amusing."

"What story?"

Mrs. Bates laughed. "When John was about 6 the neighbor girl, Mary Burns, used to help us out by watching the children until I could get home from the dress shop. She must have made quite an impression because John became convinced that he was going to marry her and soon. It took quite a bit to cure him of the notion. One morning he even insisted on not going to school so he could look for work in order to support his wife and family."

"So you're telling me I have competition?" Anna teased, noticing the blush that had formed on his cheeks.

"Et tu, my dear? Mary Oliver, as she is known these days, is a mother of five herself and must be nearly sixty. My mother enjoys diverting herself any my expense."

She reached over and covered his hand with hers. Mrs. Bates noticed the gesture, and watched her son smile at his future bride. A bit of sadness came over her as she remembered those days with her husband, God rest his soul, but mostly her heart was filled with happiness and comfort that after all he had been through her son was safe and well loved at last.

xXx

They left his mother's flat in time to get back to the hotel to help the family prepare for bed. He bid her goodnight outside the lift, regretting not being able to kiss her, especially since this was their last night.

This trip had been such a mixed blessing. He was incredibly grateful for the unusually large amount of free time they had together, but unfortunately in all that time there had been absolutely no privacy. There were always people filling the bustling hotel, hurrying down the streets, and crowding the parks and restaurants with them.

Their first night he had risked kissing her at the end of their corridor, unable to go another second with her within reach and not in his arms. They had been interrupted almost at once by another visiting servant who had tossed a smirk at them and let his eyes roam over Anna in a way that made John's blood boil. He would not put her in the position to be thought of like that, nor was he willing to share his affection for her with the world. That was the end of sneaking around the hotel.

She had surprised him earlier that night as they had arrived at his mother's. Noticing the hallway outside her flat was empty, she had grabbed his jacket and pulled him to her, pressing her lips against his for a few seconds before they heard voices on the stair and jumped apart. She was evidently just as frustrated as he was.

His Lordship hadn't needed his help for long, eager to change and retire as soon as possible. His wife and daughters had kept him quite busy over the past several days—he had even joked that he would be looking forward to a rest when they resumed their duties on Monday. As he left Lord Grantham's suite he heard a door close behind him. Turning, he was thrilled to see Anna walking toward him.

"Are you finished already?" he asked as she fell into step next to him.

"Yes, oddly enough. They told me they were tired and had decided to come back early. It looks like they mostly sorted each other out since they hardly needed me at all. And you?"

"Very much the same. His Lordship was exhausted and eager to be done."

"I guess they have been running themselves ragged since they got here. They seem happy, though. I think it was the right choice for them to come."

"What about you? Did you prefer visiting London?"

"No. It has been wonderful to be with you, but I miss the quiet of the estate. There don't seem to by any private corners or secluded sections of the orchard here. It's been hard to be so near you and yet forced to stay separate."

He dared not reply as they entered the lift, but his affected expression left no doubt that he shared her feelings. He became acutely aware of her as she stood next to him, chatting politely with the operator. By the time they arrived on the servants' floor he was nearly beside himself. It was bad enough that he ached at the distance between them—to know it affected her just as sharply was too much to bear.

They walked toward their rooms. As they neared his door two ladies brushed past them and made their way to the lifts. When they were gone he realized that the corridor, for the moment, was deserted. In the space of a few seconds a decision was made and acted upon before he could think better of it. He quickly unlocked his room and grabbed her elbow, pushing her inside and firmly closing the door behind them.


	10. Chapter 10

She stared at him, astonished at his boldness. He looked a little surprised at himself, but quickly began talking.

"Please stay. At least for a little while. I can't say goodnight and leave you—not again. We don't have much longer."

Still a bit dazed, she nodded. She found herself oddly gratified that he had taken the initiative this time. While he'd participated enthusiastically, it had always seemed like he waited for her to start things between them and let her set the pace. She was excited to see where he'd lead.

"Will you be missed?"

"No. It's not likely Miss O'Brien would come by for a chat and the girls are all settled. I shouldn't be needed again tonight."

"Will you stay, then? Until morning?"

"Yes," she exhaled, the word echoing off the walls and reverberating between them. His stomach clenched.

"I've nothing with me," she voiced the thought as it occurred to her.

"Is there something you need?"

"I don't have a nightdress."

He hadn't thought of any of that, to be honest. "Oh. Yes. Could you make do with something of mine?"

"I'm sure I could, if necessary. Or you could always keep me warm," she suggested cheekily, past her shock and suddenly full of ideas.

"It would be the least I could do," he answered with a grin, "with you so graciously agreeing to my company for the evening."

"This is what it will be like when we are married, isn't it?" she reflected. "We'll be together at the end of the day—just us, no demands and no rules but our own."

"It's what I look forward to the most."

"The most?" she teased, moving closer.

"You know exactly how much I want you, but coming home to you every night and being able to lie with you in my arms is what I dream about the rest of the time."

"Are we still in agreement about making love?"

"I think so. For now, at least. We've come this far. What do you think?"

"I agree. For now. We've a whole night, though," she flirted, lacing her fingers with his. "How ever will we pass the time?"

"Let's get ready for bed, my darling, and I'll show you," he answered back with a devilish wink, bringing her hands up to kiss before releasing them.

He went to the chair at his writing desk and took off his boots and socks. She watched as he then stood and removed his jacket and watch. She took them from him, draped the jacket over the chair, and set the watch on the desk. He reached for his links, but stopped when she took his wrist.

"Can I?" she asked quietly.

He held out his arm and she fumbled a bit working the metal through his cuff, but eventually got it free, repeating the action on the other side. She looked up at him expectantly. "My tie," he directed gently. "Put your finger in the knot and slide it back and forth to work it loose." She followed his instructions and drew the silk from around his neck. "Now the collar." She pulled the stiff collar off of him, placing it and the tie next to his links and watch on the desk. "The rest you can manage quite well, as I recall," a smile playing over his lips.

She dispensed with his waistcoat and braces before setting to work on his shirt. She ran her hands over the newly exposed skin, acquainting herself with the sight of what she previously only knew by touch. Dark hair covered most of him and she couldn't help but ogle as she stroked his chest. Dragging herself back to her task, she got his shirt off and laid it and his waistcoat on his jacket before reaching for his trousers. She undid those, her belly fluttering with every hiss that escaped him when she grazed against him through his shorts. His trousers fell and he stepped carefully out of them, not bothering to pick them up. Instead he reached for her, kissing her gently before setting her in front of him.

It took him much longer to undress her. When she understood his intent she sat down on the bed to remove her shoes and guided him under her skirts to ease down her garters and stockings. She then stood while he rested his cane on the wall and began wrestling with the fiddly decorative buttons at the front of her dress. When he got enough undone to loosen it, he gathered up the fabric and drew it over her head, only to grumble lightheartedly as her corset cover and petticoat were revealed. She didn't normally wear either under her uniform, but her best dresses were made of more delicate fabrics and required the extra protection.

He tugged the neckline of the corset cover back with a crooked finger and peered beneath. "Anna? Are you under there?"

She giggled and reached up to help him, but he brushed her away, insisting he might as well learn while he had the chance. He undid the maddeningly tiny buttons of the corset cover and pulled it off. He then untied the petticoat and let it drop to the floor. She showed him the front hooks of her corset, and soon it joined the petticoat. Finally he was able to lift off her chemise and push down her bloomers, leaving her bare to his gaze.

She waited for a moment as he drank her in. She could almost feel his eyes moving over her, exploring, caressing, and cataloging. Possessed, he reached for her shoulders and turned her around, taking his time to admire all of her.

She let him have a minute, then turned back to face him, undoing the buttons on his shorts and letting them fall. "Fair is fair," she whispered, appraising him just as frankly and smiling.

She brought him to the looking-glass then and stood in front of him, catching his eye in the reflection. "There are six hairpins. Start at the bottom, closest to my neck. Find them and pull them out." He did as instructed, gently removing them and placing them on the desk. He liked the way her things looked laying next to his. When he withdrew the last pin her plait fell down.

"Take off the tie, then start at the end, running your finger through the middle of the plait to undo it." He followed her directions very carefully and released her hair. "Normally I would brush it, but I don't have one with me. Run your hands through and try to straighten it out as best you can." This was no chore for him. He raked his fingers from the top of her head down the entire length, which fell to the middle of her back. He repeated the motion over and over, and Anna couldn't contain her sighs at how wonderful it felt. It excited him too—she could feel his response and leaned back, watching him in the glass as he closed his eyes and groaned.

She turned and pressed herself against his front, sliding her arms around his waist, still amazed at the heat and sensation of his skin on hers. His hands went back to her hair and he captured her lower lip between his, lightly teasing with his tongue before dipping into her for a taste. When they broke apart he led her to the bed. They lay down, arranging themselves carefully on their sides, facing each other.

"I'm glad we have all night," she said. "I'll have to kiss you now for every time I wanted to and couldn't this week."

"If we add in mine we'll never be able to leave this room."

"I can think of worse fates."

She leaned in then and he came to meet her. At first their pace was slow, almost reverant, as they got used to being together with absolutely nothing between them. She glided her hands down his back, kneading the muscles and coaxing him toward her. His fingers roamed up and down her sides, teasing at her bottom and brushing her breasts with each pass. The feeling was intoxicating and soon there was nothing placid at all in the way she arched into him, offering more of herself to his caress.

He answered her need, abandoning languor himself and cupping her bottom, bringing her to him firmly. His arousal jutted into her hip, too insistent to be denied any longer. He covered her breast with his palm, glancing across the sensitive center.

"If we were married there would be nothing to stop me from rising above you at this moment and joining us. Have you any idea how badly I want to do that right now?"

"It must be just as fierce as the urge I have to take you inside of me," she confided huskily while she rocked her hips against him. "There would be nothing to stop me either," she added, pushing him back so that she was above him. She let her hands wander as she placed kisses on his chest, trailing her tongue curiously over one of his nipples and smiling at the strangled sound it elicited from him.

He clutched at her hips. She looked at his face and was struck by how unfamiliar it seemed to her. She was used to her considering, controlled John, but the man laying beneath her hardly resembled him. His expression was completely open—every feeling plain as it passed over him. He seemed almost insensible, fighting for breath, his eyes alternating between boring into hers and being clenched tightly shut. In that moment she was overwhelmed at the privilege of seeing him like this, knowing that it was only her he would trust to show himself so unrestrained.

She was driving him mad, coming so close to where he desperately needed her, but then just as quickly slipping away. His resolve was perilously close to snapping and he knew he didn't have much more time before he'd be completely ungovernable. Praying she'd understand and forgive him, he took her hand and guided it down, showing her exactly what he needed to regain some measure of sanity.

It didn't take but a minute or two for him to buck his hips and groan loudly. She watched, fascinated, as his body reached its undoing, a little worried he would be overheard and attract attention.

"Sorry," he said between gasps as he returned to his senses. She leaned over and took a flannel from the washstand.

"Shh," she soothed, pressing her lips to his as she tended to them. "I know you needed that. You were looking positively wild there at the end." There was no small measure of amusement in her voice.

"You find this funny?" He turned to his side and reached for her. "Give me a few minutes, darling, and then tell me whether you are so inclined to laugh."

Laughing was soon the furthest thing from her mind. He resumed his exploration of her breasts, stroking her gently at first, but with a firmer hand as she responded to him. With no worries about being interrupted or needed elsewhere he was able to take his time in pleasing her and learning what she liked. Her sighs and murmurs turned to moans as he teased her nipples with his fingers, bringing them to stiff, sensitive peaks. He brought his mouth to her, lavishing attention with his lips and tongue, making her dig her fingers into his arm and draw her leg up his.

He took the leg resting on his and eased it up, propping it on his thigh and leaving her open to him. He touched her intimately, moving slowly as he neared her center, wanting her to become accustomed to the sensation again. He had been amazed at how responsive she was last time and finding her so ready for him now made him incredibly thankful that he'd already had his own fulfillment. He might never have prevailed if he'd felt her welcoming heat. Her responses went from shy to greedy as she relaxed under his touch. He loved her thoroughly, returning to the places that wrought the sharpest cries until she let out a surprisingly operatic wail and began to shudder. He held her closely until the storm passed, listening to her rough breath while she recovered.

He didn't trust himself to spend the rest of the night with her bare against him, delicious as it felt. He got up and retrieved his shorts before putting on a pair of pajama bottoms and pleading with her to accept the top. He had no intention of keeping his hands to himself, but he hoped a small barrier would provide enough delay to regain his senses if things became frenzied between them again.

He snapped off the lights and they slept, him on his back and she curled over his left side, leaving his leg as comfortable as possible. Passion did overtake them again in the early morning. He had woken with her draped over him and it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her, touch her, and help her find completion. She coaxed another release from him as well, this time from her own libidinous pursuit. Contented once more, they settled back into each other then and dozed until the dawn came to force them apart.

xXx

After readying the family for breakfast the next morning they walked through the park, enjoying the late summer sun. Anna had only an hour before she had to get back to the hotel to prepare for their departure that afternoon. She was surprised to find she felt no discomfit at all after their intimacies last night. He was still the same man in the morning, affectionately watching her dress and kissing her thoroughly before poking his head out into the corridor and watching for a clear opportunity for her to run back to her own room. Soon enough, she had faith, she would spend every night and morning with him and so it had all felt very right.

"It occurs to me, Anna, that I've never really asked you what you want."

"How do you mean?"

"When the war is over there will be nothing left in our way. We will be able to marry and start our life. What kind of life do you want?"

"Do you want to leave Downton?"

"No, I don't. Do you?"

"No. I like it there. I have a lot of friends and it's close to my family. I would be happy with our own home, though. A cottage, maybe? I certainly don't need anything elaborate."

"Our own little cottage would be nice. What about children?"

"I expect to be very happily married," she answered with a saucy grin. "So yes, I would think there would be a family in our future. Is that something you want?"

"I look forward to a happy marriage too," he replied, eyes twinkling. "And a family. Though I've thought…Vera and I never had children, which was for the best, of course, and there wasn't a great deal of…opportunity…but I've wondered at it."

"You are what is most important to me. If children come along they will be a blessing, but all I've ever wanted is to be your wife."

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still gruff as he continued. "I think, so long as we're careful, our circumstances should be comfortable. You wouldn't need to stay on after we're married and there will be enough to set up house."

"We'll have mine, too. There hasn't been much to do but work these past few years, so I've only been able to add to it."

"We should be nicely fixed, then."

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you think you could ever consider coming to London for the duration?"

"I didn't know that was a possibility. Could we?"

"We could be married and find a flat. You could get a job if you wanted."

"Is that what you want?"

"I think, in some respects, you'd be much happier at Downton. And I feel you're safer there too. There would still be just as much work for me, so we wouldn't have much time to ourselves. But we'd be together. I miss you terribly, and I'm not sure how much more time with you I'm willing to give up. It would have to work for you too, though."

The idea was very intriguing. On the one hand she'd be leaving the post she'd worked so hard for and moving far away from home, friends, and family, but on the other hand they could finally be together. The waiting was excruciating and idea of relief was quite compelling.

"I would definitely consider it, John. I don't want to leave the family or Mrs. Hughes in a difficult position. It's very hard to secure help these days, but I want what is best for both of us and I think they might forgive my joining you after all this time. Is it something you'd want to do soon?"

"No, I think we should take some time before making such a drastic decision. Let's give it another year. If we are still separated at that time we'll go ahead. Does that seem sensible to you?

She agreed and they spent the rest of their final hour ambling slowly along the path, no real destination in mind. He stole one last kiss when they found themselves a bit separated from the crowds since he knew very well there would be no opportunity when he had to let her go back at the hotel. She had been nervous about their parting, afraid that she wouldn't be able to do it, or that she would find herself making an embarrassing display, crying and clinging to him, but now she had no reason to fear. She still felt sad but that was tempered with a new calm and comfort. No matter what, this was going to be their last goodbye.

xXx

They looked at the clock again. 10:52am. These minutes were crawling by more slowly than any had over the past four years.

They had elected to wait it out in his Lordship's office. They could have gone with the others to the mess, or even joined the crowd gathering on the street outside, but somehow it seemed fitting that it should end where so much of it had happened for them, in their small, gray corner of the rabbit warren that was the War Office. Grantham at least had a window, which was more than many could boast. They watched the people milling about, more arriving every moment, waving flags and scarves, their cheer and their volume growing.

They had gotten the call an hour ago. His Lordship had been summoned and when he returned he confirmed the rumors. The armistice agreement had been signed that morning and hostilities would cease no later than 11:00am. It was over.

It wasn't a surprise, really. Hope had blossomed late in the spring as the Germans were stalled and then driven back from the gains they had made earlier that year. Encouragement continued to come over the summer as the Allies advanced and the Americans kept pouring in. By fall the whispers of peace envoys and the collapse of German supply capabilities were on everyone's lips. The Bulgarians were first to fold, and others followed not long after. By the time the Kaiser fled most were willing believe the end was in sight.

Bates was sure he'd be happy later. They would join the other men and laugh, shake hands, and clap each other on the back. They would praise their victory, commend the country's efforts, and start talking of home and family. But now, pacing around his Lordship's office, all he could think of was what had been lost. How many men? How much money and effort? How many days spent apart and lonely? And for what? An armistice that in some ways resolved nothing—not really a victory, simply an agreement to stop fighting. He would have tried to force some cheer into his expression, but he gathered from his Lordship's somber mood that he felt the same way.

The only brightness he felt in the moment was for Anna. He had written her in August, telling her what he could of what he knew and suggesting that they postpone their plans in the hopes that they may soon not be needed. She confessed in her reply that she had been wondering, from what she read in the newspapers, if that might be the case and was glad to hear him confirm it. The upheaval and expense of moving to London would be significant and she would be willing to bear his absence a bit longer if it meant they would be better off for the future.

Another check of the clock. 10:55am

"May I have a word, Sir?" John asked, breaking the silence.

"Certainly. What is it?"

"If I understand correctly, the leaseholders at Graham cottage will be leaving next month." He had kept in contact with Mr. Carson over the years to coordinate some of his Lordship's affairs that fell to both of their responsibilities. The butler informed him of happenings at the estate so that he could manage his Lordship's diary and see to any correspondence needed.

"Yes, I heard. Moving to work in the factories, they say. It's a shame, really. The family lived there for 20 years. Kept up the place nicely as well."

"I wonder if I might apply to assume the tenancy?"

"Bates?" Lord Grantham questioned. "Are you intending to leave your post?"

"No, my Lord. I should be very glad to continue on as long as you find it agreeable. It is only that I aspire to marry soon and I'm looking for a suitable situation in which to be settled." It was the first time he had breathed it out loud to anyone besides Anna or his mother and it still sounded so unlikely.

"Marry?"

"Yes, your Lordship. "

"Well! This is a surprise indeed! I didn't realize you were taken with someone. Who is the lady? Someone here in town? "

"Anna, Sir, if she'll have me."

"Our Anna?"

My Anna, he almost corrected, but he caught the words before they escaped. "Yes, Sir."

"Will wonders never cease? I suppose this means she will be leaving her post."

"I expect so, eventually. The particulars will need to be decided."

"Graham cottage. Yes, that would answer well. Of course the tenancy shall be yours. I'll have Matthew draw it up as soon as possible."

"I'm very grateful, your Lordship." Bates was doubly grateful that young Mr. Crawley would be back from the fight and had resuming his previous occupation.

"You old devil! She's a good girl. I expect there will be many years of happiness for you."

Bates allowed himself a small smile. "Thank you, my Lord".

10:59am. And then, miraculously, 11:00.


	11. Chapter 11

He made his way down the crowded street, doing his best to stay out of the slushy puddles that had resulted from the first snowfall of the winter. Five weeks since the armistice and they were preparing to return to Downton for good. He was once again grateful for Grantham's position and influence. They were getting home much faster than the rank-and-file.

Bates had one last errand to complete before leaving London. He had asked his Lordship's recommendation for a jeweler and was just now getting the opportunity to go. He pushed open the door and entered the shop, pausing for a minute to admire the lavish gems in the front cabinet. Didn't every man wish he could shower his wife with jewels like a queen? Then again, Anna didn't need any help to be breathtaking.

He turned his attention to the more modest selection further inside. Rows upon rows of shiny bands waited there—which one would suit her? Toward the back of the case a pretty ring caught his notice. It was a flowery filigree band, white gold, with an aquamarine in the center. For some reason, the lovely blue color reminded him of her. It was bright and cheerful, like the sky on a summer's day—the very summer's day that had set them off of this long journey. He knew it was the ring her wanted to offer her.

He called the shopkeeper over and they settled on six pounds, which included a small band to complement her ring. He couldn't wait to get back to her.

xXx

In the end, their homecoming was fairly subdued. The great joy of their return was tempered by the thoughts of everything that had changed since they had gone. Thomas had been killed late in 1916 when his field hospital got caught in heavy shelling. William had come back last year after having been injured driving a supply route. He was no longer able to keep up as a footman, but he took a position as a groom on the estate, which seemed to bring him some happiness. They had also lost two coalmen and an under gardener in the fighting, and several others to employment in the cities. A whole line of new faces greeted them in the great hall. Things would never again be as they were.

John wanted so badly to go to Anna, but of course that simply wouldn't be appropriate. After greeting his wife and daughters, His Lordship addressed each of the remaining staff, thanking them for their service and sacrifice during the difficult years. At last he turned to go up and Bates followed him, ready to unpack and assist him in settling in. He was surprised when Grantham addressed him quietly.

"Bates! What are you doing? Go give that girl of yours a proper hello! She's been waiting awfully long, hasn't she?"

Not needing a second invitation, he confirmed he would be right up to attend to his Lordship and hurried toward the servants' stairs. Anna had lingered by the door, unwilling to let go of the sight of him until the last possible second. A wide smile broke over her face as she realized he was heading toward her and she ran to meet him in the hallway. He pulled her into his arms, propriety be dammed. He was home and he was never going to be apart from her again.

He didn't dare kiss her, knowing how quickly that could get out of hand. He contented himself in holding her tightly, cherishing the feel of her against him. He could have stayed there forever, but eventually they heard footmen coming, and the discreet cough of Mrs. Hughes, her benevolence at its limit. He reluctantly released her, but before she turned to go he asked her to walk out with him on Sunday.

She laughed at bit at that. "You know you needn't ask anymore. I will always be happy to walk out with you."

"Sunday," he said with a grin, and they both slipped back into their duties.

xXx

December had brought quite a chill to the air so they didn't go far after services, instead choosing to stroll around the outer gardens of the house until they reached the temple overlooking the lake. He led her inside, and they stood quietly for a few minutes admiring the peaceful winter landscape. Finally he took a deep breath and turned to her. "I am not a young man anymore. Despite what has happened these recent years, there is still the matter of my past. That disgrace will always be with me. I intend to stay in his Lordship's service as long as he'll have me, so I will never be a man of great means. Also,"

She interrupted him with a gentle kiss. "John," she said, eyes bright, "do you really think there's anything you could say that would tempt me not to accept?"

That made him smile. His Anna. He should have expected no different. He pulled her hands into his. "Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

He realized later she had never actually said yes, though after all this time she hardly needed to. He supposed he hadn't exactly needed to ask either—it had been settled for years. It felt like the right thing to do, though. While he'd always keep their promises close to his heart, she deserved to hear a proper proposal.

She had cried a bit, especially when he reached into his waistcoat pocket and presented her with the ring. She insisted it was too much; that there hadn't been any need to buy an engagement ring, but she also said it was the most beautiful thing she'd even seen. He caught her admiring it several times on the walk back.

Anna was thrilled at the prospect of Graham cottage and was especially touched that he had taken the initiative to make the arrangements. She baited him playfully, asking him exactly how long he had been making plans for their marriage, and started to cry again when he confessed it couldn't have started too long after he met her.

They ran into Mrs. Hughes on the way in. From the way her gaze had immediately gone to Anna's left hand, she must have had no doubt as to his intentions when they'd left that day. She offered sincere congratulations, but did allow that she would be sorry to see Anna go. Anna resolved to find a quiet moment to speak to her. She wanted to thank her for everything she had taught her, the opportunities she had given her, and her quiet support over the last few years. She also wanted to make sure she knew that while she would no longer be her boss, Anna would be very grateful to call her a friend.

xXx

They were to be married as soon as the banns could be published. Neither one cared for the spectacle or expense of a large wedding; they were simply content to be joined as swiftly as possible.

He had done so many things wrong in his life and behaved so irreverently that now it was a matter of great concern for him to do things the honorable way. That being the case, he was determined to deliver her to the altar a maiden, despite her best efforts try him. Since his return and their promise, he had never been so lasciviously examined nor so thoroughly manhandled. He would be tempted to be concerned were he not both willing prey and quite familiar with the general circumspection of her character.

He was relatively safe within the confines of Downton. Even with their engagement, they would reside in their respective quarters until the wedding. The amount of work needed to reopen and restore the great estate made free time scarce and privacy even scarcer. Thus, for the time being her more devilish inclinations were thwarted.

On their last free Sunday afternoon he had brought her to Graham cottage to show her the accommodations and the improvements being made. As he led her inside, the gravity of his miscalculation became apparent with the deafening click of door latch closing behind them.

They were alone. They were unlikely to be disturbed. The cottage was already partially furnished.

She, being the cleverer of the two, had already assessed the situation and set her aim. The mischievous glint in her eye could end in no good. They had been alone together before, of course, but now, so close to the wedding, he wasn't sure he'd be able to resist. In the past he'd at least been able to check himself with the fear of leaving her in a difficult situation but with that obstacle now removed there was only his conscience holding him back and he feared it could be easily persuaded.

"The Coopers kept several fruit trees around the garden," he babbled nervously as she took stock of the space, fixing on the double bed that sat, still covered in cloth, in the middle of the room. "I was told there are apple, pear, and plum that yield quite well. Perhaps you'd like to see them. Outside."

She wasted no time removing her overcoat and hat. When she reached for her hairpins he knew the battle had been lost. The little minx knew his Achilles heel and had no compunction in using it against him. Recognizing when he was beaten, he crossed the room and stilled his hands over hers.

"Allow me," he said, his voice suddenly thick, and began unwinding her plait.

An hour later his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt were discarded and her dress and corset lay in a heap on the floor as they nestled under a quilt on the bed, their racing hearts slowly returning to normal. Her virtue, however, was still largely intact. She seemed to understand, despite her ardor, how important it was to him to keep that commitment and so in the end she hadn't pushed the issue and he loved her all the more for it. Her hair fanned across his chest. He idly ran his fingers through it—how could anything be so soft? It would always be his undoing, he mused, her beautiful golden hair, loosed only for him to see.

"It is a lovely cottage" she offered, breaking the comfortable silence. It had 4 rooms; a parlor in front, the kitchen, with an icebox and a large farm table, their bedroom, and a spare room that she knew would become a nursery by and by. The fireplace in the parlor was surrounded by sturdy shelves that she could easily imagine filled with the books he would collect over the years.

"Do you really like it?" he asked. He knew it couldn't compare with the grandeur of Downton, but it would be theirs. He so wanted her to be happy there.

"Aye, very much so. It will make us a wonderful home."

She snuggled back under his arm. One more week.

xXx

She looked around her room and felt a little sad at how empty it seemed. It had been her home for sixteen years—longer than she had lived anywhere else. Almost all of her belongings had been brought over to the cottage earlier that day. All she had left was her dress for tomorrow and a traveling bag. It was the last night there would be a lock between them as they slept. John could have stayed at the cottage but he had stated that he couldn't sleep there without her and thus chose to spend one final night in his quarters as well.

Even though it was late, she couldn't quite make herself change for bed and go to sleep. Instead she crept back downstairs, wandering through the hallways and rooms that had contained her life for so long. She wouldn't be leaving right away—she had agreed to stay on until her replacement could be recruited and trained—but it wouldn't be the same. Her heart and mind would be focused on their little home, not the great estate.

She heard a jingle of keys ahead and went to investigate. She found Mr. Molesley securing the locks for the night. Molesley had stayed at the estate throughout the duration of the war. He had been subject to conscription when the age limit had been raised, but due to his various responsibilities he managed to secure a hardship exemption and perform national service. He had juggled working at the local hospital and his regular duties with a remarkable degree of forbearance and was quietly admired by all of the members of the household. He and Sarah had moved back to Crawley house with their daughter when Lord Grantham returned, but he still occasionally helped out at Downton when needed. He would be covering for John for a few days after the wedding.

"Hello, Anna. How are you tonight?"

"A little sentimental, I think."

"That's understandable. I'm sorry I won't be able to be there tomorrow. Sarah is beside herself with excitement, though." Mr. Molesley had graciously agreed to stay behind while the other staff went to the wedding. It wouldn't be a long affair, but the family couldn't be left unattended. "We have a present for you. Perhaps it might be best to show it to you now. Would you come with me?"

She followed, intrigued, as he led her to the larder. He pulled a small basket off of the shelf and put it in front of her. "My father brought it by this afternoon."

Inside was a perfect little posy of snowdrops, pansies, and camellia. A lump formed in her throat as she fingered the delicate winter white blooms. She hadn't given any thought to flowers, but the beautiful little bouquet took her breath away.

They had eschewed most of the trappings of a formal wedding. She had chosen to get a new best dress rather than a wedding gown that could only be worn once. The wedding would take place following Sunday services and they would not be having a breakfast afterward. Mrs. Patmore had insisted on making a cake to be shared at the church, but otherwise it would be a very simple event. Neither her family nor his mother would be attending. Instead Bates and Anna had made arrangements to visit each of them during his fortnight later that year. They would leave for Scarborough directly afterward, both of them agreeing that all they wanted was a few uninterrupted days together.

John had been puzzled at first at her suggestion for their wedding trip. "There is absolutely nothing to do in Scarborough in the middle of January," he'd protested.

"Precisely," she answered, laughing as he began to comprehend and his eyes darkened.

Now, standing there in the larder and admiring the soft, fragile petals, it all seemed very real to her. She was getting married in the morning. All of the trials were behind them and every happiness was within their reach.

"It's so beautiful, Mr. Molesley. I hardly know what to say. Thank you so much. All of you."

"You're welcome, Anna. We wish you the very best."

She replaced the bouquet, arranging it carefully so it would not be crushed overnight. Finally tired, she followed him back out into the hall and toward the stairs.

"You know," she began conversationally, "in a way this is all bit of your doing. If I hadn't learned from you that Mr. Bates said I was attached I might never have found out I was myself."

Molesley chuckled. "If that is my career as a matchmaker I'm glad I've never tried again! I think your record is better than mine."

They arrived at the stairs. Anna bade Mr. Molesley good night and he continued on his way to lock the far doors. She went up, casting one last look at the door to the men's hall. For an instant the impulse to sneak down to his room came over her, but she quashed it. She had tortured the poor man enough. He had tried so hard to control himself and she certainly hadn't made it easy on him. To be honest, she would have been willing to succumb, especially so close to the wedding when they didn't have to worry about consequences anymore, but she accepted that he felt he had things to atone for.

Her night passed peacefully as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. She woke with the dawn and her high spirits made it impossible to go back to bed. She picked at the tea tray that Daisy so kindly brought her, put on her dress, decided that putting on her dress so early would only wrinkle it, took off her dress, and then alternated between sitting in front of her looking-glass and fussing with her nails. She was never so grateful when 9 o'clock arrived.

She quickly dressed again, checked one more time that everything was packed, and went downstairs. Mrs. Hughes pulled her aside as she entered the hall. "He was a bit jumpy, so Mr. Carson sent him outside to pace. You'd best go out there." Her countenance held a bit of mirth and Anna couldn't help smiling in response.

From the doorway she spotted him wearing a path across the yard, dressed in his very best. Suddenly Anna felt a bit flushed and wondered if there was an earlier train they could catch that afternoon. She started toward him and his head snapped up at the sound of her footsteps.

In her whole life she would never forget the awestruck expression that came over his face that morning, the love in his eyes, or the way he reached out to cup her cheek before pressing his lips to hers. "You look beautiful," he whispered. She leaned in to him, overwhelmed at the idea that she was about to become his wife.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"Excited. You?"

"Better now that you're here," he admitted sheepishly.

"Are you ready to go try some breakfast?" she teased.

"Can I hold your hand under the table?" he bantered with a rakish leer.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't. Though in just a few more hours that won't be—"

"Don't. Please. I beg of you. If you want my thoughts to be at all…holy during our wedding…"

She refrained from pointing out that he had started it and they went back inside and took their usual places. The meal was cheerful with the rest of the staff excited about the wedding and full of questions about their trip and the cottage. She could see him relax as the minutes passed, and soon he wasn't clutching her hand so much as stroking it, circling his fingertips lightly over her palm and making her bite back her response.

Thankfully it was quickly time to leave. Anna retrieved her bouquet and the group set out together, but as usual she and Bates fell behind. She was grateful for these last few quiet moments with him. She tucked her arm into his and he smiled down at her. It wasn't a long walk to the village and before they knew it they had arrived.

She stopped him just as they were about to walk inside. "You realize I'm going to have to make you a promise in there that I can't keep."

"Oh?"

"Since when have you ever known me to obey?" she answered with an impertinent grin.

"I hope you never start," he laughed.

"As long as we're understood, then."

"Always," he replied and led her into the church.

* * *

_I hope you'll forgive me that we won't be attending John and Anna's wedding, but it's covered quite comprehensively in The Book of Common Prayer and I fear there isn't much I could add to it. We will, however, be catching up with them in a set of two epilogues that I have taken to affectionately calling Pudding and The Cheese Course. Seriously. You have been warned. _


	12. Chapter 12

_I confess to finding the boundary between T and M to be very fuzzy, so while I would consider this to be the least salacious bit ever written, I'll just open with the warning that John and Anna are married now. Happily. _

* * *

The mechanical pin clicked into the slot, triggering the shriek of the bell. Groggily, John reached for the switch and pushed it to the side, silencing the infernal noise. That clock really could raise the dead from their rest, he thought, and turned over toward his wife.

He draped an arm over her and pulled her to him, burying his face in the warmth of her neck. He would forever be thankful for the second chance he'd been given, but for the tiniest instant each morning he despised Downton. It was a torment to tear himself from her and their bed.

Anna had woken the second the bell rang, but she played at slumber a few more minutes, enjoying the solid feel of her husband behind her, breathing in the scent of sleep and yesterday's musk on his skin.

Dawn was coming earlier now that spring was here, but it was still just barely approaching at seven o'clock. Rising at seven usually left enough time to dress, eat breakfast, and make his way over to the estate well before His Lordship's customary waking at half past eight. On some mornings John got a bit later start than usual, but the resultant good cheer was sufficient incentive to make haste.

This was not to be one of those mornings, though. A visiting duke had kept the house up well past midnight and it wasn't until nearly two that John had made it home. In the early days of their marriage Anna would wait up for him, no matter how late his return. He cherished those nights—the quiet words exchanged in the candle light, her gentle hands slipping his coat from his tired shoulders, the pleasure of her silken skin when he found he wasn't so tired after all.

Those days were likely behind them now, he reflected, but he was not grieved. The exchange was for a far greater prize. He slid his hand low over her belly, caressing the tiny roundness that had formed there in recent weeks.

"I tried my hardest," she murmured drowsily. "But even for a king's ransom I can't seem to keep my eyes open past nine o'clock anymore."

She felt him smile as he pressed a kiss against her skin, his morning stubble lightly rasping her. He had been so pleased with the news. Anna was too, but she would also confess to being equally glad it had taken a little more than a year after their marriage for her to fall pregnant. After years of his self-imposed distance and their wartime separation she relished in simple time together-time for cups of tea, conversation, or to bicker good-naturedly over whether to buy butter or margarine. She had once starved on stolen seconds with him; she was greedy now.

Eventually they pulled themselves from the bed. He went to the wash stand to begin his morning ablutions; she to the kitchen to get their breakfast started. She stoked the fire and began heating water for tea. She sliced the bread and, after a moment's deliberation, selected a jar of pears from the shelf. Once the stove was hot, she pulled down a pan to begin the eggs.

John emerged a while later, fully dressed. He gratefully accepted the cup of tea proffered and was happy to see the eggs on. Anna kept a setting of hens in the garden and so they usually had fresh eggs for breakfast. He infinitely preferred his wife's cooking to the porridge at Downton, but there had been days lately when the poor girl could hardly even look at an egg. He was happy to see her feeling a bit better this morning. He noticed she ate heartily, another good sign, and they chatted idly about her plans to begin transferring her seedlings and the misadventures of the newest scullery maid at the estate.

He had worried at first that the burdens of maintaining the cottage on her own might be too much, but she had merely laughed, stating that looking after four rooms would be nothing next to what she had managed at Downton. His Lordship had been very generous in the terms of their lease and so they allowed themselves the luxury of the local laundress' services, given that the cost was so low and the chore was so onerous, but otherwise Anna kept house, did the cooking, and worked the garden, growing some of their food and canning the surplus. She assured him her days were full but not overwhelming and that she was very happy.

Soon enough it was time for him to leave. He pulled on his overcoat and kissed her, promising to be home for tea that afternoon. He started out on the short walk to Downton buoyed by the scent of spring in the air.

xXx

His mornings passed largely as they always had. He arrived early to assure everything was in place, then woke his Lordship and assisted him in dressing.

They usually chatted about the news and upcoming plans while he worked. This particular day Mr. Bates was surprised to hear Lord Grantham deviate from his usual conversation.

"How is our Anna getting on, Bates? Has she settled in thoroughly?"

"Yes , Sir. Her garden occupies her lately and she seems quite content with it."

"Good, good. If I am not mistaken you seem unusually chipper yourself lately."

"I suppose so, my Lord. We'll be expecting an addition to our family party before year's end, I'm told."

"Wonderful news!" Lord Grantham said, though Bates did not miss the wistful twist of his lips. "Always cause for excitement."

"I scarcely imagined myself becoming a father at 50, your Lordship, but I daresay I agree."

"Our master has plans for all of us, Bates. I don't think you were exempted."

After preparing his Lordship, he saw to the rest of his responsibilities. He mentally reviewed the garments to be worn that afternoon and evening as well as those to be used over the next few days. Laying out what would be needed presently, he inspected the rest and tended to them as needed before handling any personal business for his Lordship. That usually carried him through the morning.

He still took his dinner in the servants' hall. His Lordship usually required afternoon clothes for sport after finishing his luncheon, so it simply wasn't practical to go home. It was just as well. It kept him part of the circle among the staff and spared Anna the trouble of having to cook for him.

He made every effort to complete his duties no later than three o'clock in the afternoon. As an upper servant he was given leave to skip tea and therefore could usually return home and spend the afternoon with his wife. He spent the time on the walk home imagining where he would find her upon his return. He often found her working in the garden, baking, or in her rocking chair with her handiwork. A few times, memorably, he had found her in their bed, needing no words to convey her invitation. Those days held a special place in his heart, not only for the obvious reasons, but also for the way they had laid together afterward, desire temporarily satisfied, and let the world stop around them. It was only a few precious hours, but for that time there had been nothing but to hold each other, dreaming aloud of all the happy memories yet to be made.

Today he found her at her knitting. As soon as she'd learned of the bairn she had begun making all sorts of tiny articles. He privately wondered at how many hats and blankets and booties such a small creature could really need, but prudently kept that thought to himself.

He kissed her warmly before heading into the kitchen to peck. Over the years he had discovered her one vice—a sweet tooth. He found it endearing and always made sure to keep her stock of sugar ample, even though she protested at the expense of it. He didn't mind, and besides, he enjoyed the spoils. Today didn't disappoint. He found a plate of freshly baked tarts and helped himself as she followed him into the kitchen to fix his cup.

As he finished his tea she assured him that there were no chores that needed his attention, so he settled down in his chair with the latest book he'd borrowed from Lord Grantham. The chair had been a wedding present to him from Anna. He hadn't known of it until they returned from their brief wedding trip and entered the cottage for the first time as husband and wife. It was an elegant piece, leather with a high wingback that practically enveloped him as he sat in it. It had a matching ottoman that provided a welcome respite for his leg on hard days.

He'd been astonished by its presence in the house. Fine as it was, it was definitely not of their means. Anna explained that she had come to find out Lady Grantham was redecorating the library and would be replacing some of the furniture. Seeing that the chair was one of the pieces set to go, she begged Mr. Carson to let her buy it. John was amazed at his thoughtful, clever wife and then demonstrated his appreciation by pulling her atop him to christen the chair as theirs alone. He smiled at the memory of their newlywed enthusiasm.

Half past five found him waking to her hand on his shoulder. He had nodded off over his book, a product of the late hours he had been keeping recently. He rose and changed into his evening clothes as she made a light supper for them to eat by the fire.

As he readied to leave yet again he stopped to hold her close, knowing that she would undoubtedly be asleep by the time he returned even though it promised to be an early night since there were no visitors and the family seemed worn out.

His evening went by quickly. He prepared his Lordship for dinner and then readied his nightclothes and items for the morrow. A bowl of soup in the servants' hall and it was time for his final duties of the night. He bade Lord Grantham good night in his dressing room, took his leave of Mr. Carson, and started once more down the path.

As anticipated, Anna was fast asleep when he returned. He washed in the kitchen and made his way to their bedroom. He changed quickly, assembled his morning suit for the next day, and climbed into bed next to her. He kissed her cheek, which roused her enough to mumble a sleepy "Love you." Assuming she'd drift back off, he started to get comfortable but she surprised him by turning and settling herself over him, undoing his pajama top and nuzzling at his chest. Evidently she wasn't as exhausted as he had thought.

He drew her nightdress up and off, kissing her neck and dipping his tongue into his favorite spot at the base of her throat-the one that always made her moan deeply-while gently caressing the newly exposed skin. Her condition had made her figure even more lush than usual, a development about which he had been unable to hide his enthusiasm. He had found he had to be extra careful in touching her, but if he kept his attentions delicate and light her response seemed to be even more fierce than it had been before.

Her hands quickly slipped below his waistband, pushing down his pajama bottoms and stroking him with confidence and familiarity. She knew exactly what he liked and had discovered some things on her own that he hadn't known excited him before her. His desire strong now, he rolled them over and moved his fingers low to arouse her the way she had for him. He had learned the pitch of her cries and recognizing that she was ready, close to breaking, in fact, he shifted his position and entered her, sheathing himself easily, their sighs mingling.

He continued pleasing her as he moved and her climax came quickly. He let himself go then, driving into her as she cradled him between her thighs, her arms tight around him. Soon he stilled above her with a quiet gasp and spent himself deep inside her, the taste of her collarbone on his lips.

There was nothing remarkable about it—nothing scandalous, outlandish, or exotic. It probably lasted no longer than a quarter hour and hardly a word had passed between them. It was simply the soft, sweet dance of two souls that adored each other and craved being connected.

He loved the way she smiled afterward, her face full of lassitude and satisfaction. He kissed her once more and moved to his side of the bed, handing her back her nightdress. She slipped it on and stretched out beside him as he restored his pajamas. She was dreaming again before he was even done.

As he lay back, waiting for sleep to overtake him, John once again could scarcely believe his good fortune. He marveled at how he got to be a man in a respectable position with a fine wife who loved him and a child on the way. He thought back on the places he'd been and the misery he'd lived. Knowing that it had brought him to this, he found he could be grateful for every single minute.


	13. Chapter 13

_Gulp, here we are. I must confess I'm a little sentimental about letting this one go. I would like to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who read, and especially those who took the time to review. It means a lot and makes the whole process fun. I'd like to offer special thanks to the faithful crew who took the whole ride with me-you rock!_

_Finally, I couldn't post this without acknowledging the contributions of FirstDraft, an invaluable consulting therapist without whose creative solutions to my writing "problems" and endless tolerance for whinging this story would probably still be languishing on my hard drive. _

_Same warning as last time...happily married..._

* * *

"Mama, when will Papa be home?"

Anna sighed. It was the fourth time Lily had asked this in the last hour alone. She hadn't left her perch by the parlor window since after breakfast. She really was her father's daughter. These separations were hard on her.

She checked on Henry, playing on the rug with his new toy train, and was grateful he was finally distracted. She had caught him three times that morning sticking his fingers into his birthday cake. Turning four, it was the first year he really understood that the fuss was all about him and he was eager for the party to start. She silently thanked John's mother for sending the train and hoped she wouldn't mind that Anna had resorted to giving it to him early in the hopes of keeping him occupied and out of mischief.

A gust of cool air rushed through the room and Anna went to adjust the window. Fall was definitely on its way and she found herself glad of it. It had been a very hectic summer at Downton, brought about by all of the changes in recent years. Two more weddings had followed John and Anna's in relatively quick succession. Lady Edith had been introduced to some of her father's colleagues on their visit to London during the war and had begun a correspondence with one of the officers. He had proposed when he was discharged and she had happily accepted. They were now established just outside of London.

The war had forced Lady Mary to grow up a fair measure while simultaneously softening Matthew Crawley a bit. After his return they managed to put their past behind them and realize that they were still very well suited. Their wedding had come about a year after Lady Edith's and they settled into Crawley House together.

After her sisters were married Lady Sybil convinced her parents to let her make an extended visit to America to stay with her Ladyship's family. She had been expected back after a year but had shocked everyone by asking to remain in order to pursue studies at Radcliffe College. She was still there now, and Anna doubted she'd be returning anytime soon.

As such, the great house had become rather empty. Lord and Lady Grantham still entertained, but there wasn't as much call for it with their daughters off on their own pursuits. At the same time, Mr. and Mrs. Crawley were enjoying the fruitful abundance of their marital felicity. Three sons and a daughter had arrived in the last six years and another was on the way. Crawley House was bursting at the seams.

The solution was obvious, if a daunting prospect. Her Ladyship had taken some convincing to warm up to the idea as she wasn't terribly keen to leave the comforts of the estate, but in the end she was a doting grandmother and remembered the joys her own girls had experienced growing up at Downton. She secured a promise from His Lordship that she could redecorate Crawley House to her tastes and agreed to the plan.

The matter decided, preparations for the great reshuffling began. Mr. Carson elected to follow Lord and Lady Grantham as the position would be much less demanding now that he was nearing his retirement. Surprising everyone, and yet no one, really, he and Mrs. Hughes announced their intention to marry when he left. She would accompany him to Crawley House. Having tended to him for most of the last 15 years, Mr. Molesley would be retained as valet to Mr. Crawley and would be moving with him to the estate. Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Bird would remain in their respective posts for the time being.

At both Mr. Carson's and Lord Grantham's recommendation, Mr. Bates was proposed to assume the position of butler at Downton. Though she respected their opinions greatly, Lady Mary initially had trouble putting aside the lessons of her upbringing. A butler represented a home—surely they couldn't have a man with such an infirmity in that position? Mr. Crawley, however, would hear none of it. He had never been a slave to convention or appearances and after his experiences in the war he refused to discount a man for the wounds he had sustained. That discussion was ended promptly and firmly and the offer was made.

John was flattered and interested in position, but he and Anna did not want to leave Graham cottage. This was a point of discussion, but eventually they reasoned that the Molesleys were willing to return to the married quarters at Downton and it would only take the hall boy a few minutes to run down to the cottage if John were needed, so it would be acceptable for him to stay. With that sorted, John happily accepted the post. He would miss spending his days with Lord Grantham, but he felt honored to help maintain and preserve the estate that was so dear to his Lordship.

With everything else in place, a new housekeeper was engaged and the great move was set for July. One afternoon Anna left the children with their neighbor for a few hours to come help John settle in to his pantry. While they were working she happened to look up and notice that the housekeeper's parlor was unoccupied. Mrs. Hughes had already vacated the space and Anna remembered that Mrs. Burton, her replacement, would not be arriving for another few days.

Unable to ignore the opportunity, she put down the ledgers she was boxing up and took John's hand. She led him across the hall without a word and dragged him inside. He was confused at first, but as she reached around him to lock the door he realized what she was thinking of and his heart began to race. Knowing they didn't dare take too long, he quickly laid her on the settee and they acted out an old "what if?" to their great satisfaction. Afterwards he insisted they find a chance to do the same in his pantry so that he would always have the memory of her in there with him.

Even after the transition was complete it had taken some time for everyone to adjust to their new roles. Mr. Molesley stepped in when there were large parties and the footmen weren't sufficient to attend all the guests, however due to his father's age and ill health he preferred not to travel very often. Therefore, Bates usually traveled with Mr. Crawley while Molesley managed things in his absence. It was, perhaps, an unorthodox arrangement, but one that was working well for all parties involved. All parties, that is, except Lily. She hated it when her father had to travel and impatiently awaited his return.

Lily had come into the world quietly, a relief to both of them, but especially John, who had gotten very anxious as her time approached. He had begun to sleep fitfully and in the small hours of one particularly bad night Anna finally managed to coax out of him that he was afraid that everything was too good to be true; that certainly he couldn't deserve all of the happiness that had been given to him and something must be coming along to take it all away. She was taken aback at the resurrection of his old fears—he had been quite steady and content since their marriage. She couldn't make him promises, but she did reassure him that Dr. Clarkson always said she was healthy and strong. In the end she agreed, at his insistence, to go to the hospital in Harrogate to have the baby, a new option only just available.

It turned out to be a rather routine birth. Anna wouldn't have exactly called it easy, but there had been no complications or surprises. Lily had Anna's large eyes, and was born with a shock of dark hair like her father. When John had finally been allowed to come to them they sat in near silence for over an hour, simply marveling at what they had created.

Three years later Henry had come along, arriving with a loud squall that predicated the noise and energy that would follow him from then on. He had light coloring like his mother but Anna and John had both been mystified at the wild curls that formed after his first birthday given that no one they knew in either of their families had that kind of hair. Mrs. Bates eventually solved that puzzle, showing them an old tintype of her husband as young man with the same curly mop. John had always known his father to have closely cropped his hair and therefore he hadn't remembered.

Anna would confess to being a little surprised at how well John had taken to fatherhood. She had known that he would be a good parent and would love his children wholeheartedly, but she hadn't realized how active he'd intended to be in their lives. Where most of the men she knew left their offspring over to their wives or a nurse, he was somewhat unique.

A few weeks after Lily was born she had reached her limit. She was still recovering from her labor, hadn't slept properly in days, and couldn't seem to stop Lily's crying. John had arrived home for tea to find both of them sobbing in the kitchen. Instead of being disappointed with his wife for being unable to manage one tiny infant, he had gotten her up and led her to bed, insisting that she take a break while he tended to Lily. They had found that afternoon that his limp made for the perfect rhythm to soothe a fussy baby. He had spent hours over the next several months, and again with Henry, pacing the floor of the cottage, lulling them into slumber.

As they had grown he still spent much of his free time with them. With his new responsibilities John wasn't able to get home every afternoon, but he stole an hour here or there when he could, plus he now had one evening off per week and a half day each Sunday. He read to them, taught them how to build and fix things, and never lost patience with their endless questions. They had saved enough to go to the seashore during his fortnight earlier in the summer. He showed Lily and Henry how to fly kites and skip rocks and slipped them sweets when Anna wasn't looking. It was no wonder that his children were deeply attached to him and not inclined to tolerate his absences well.

"Mama? Did you hear me? When will Papa come?"

"It shouldn't be too much longer, dear. Why don't you go look at your books?" Lily had started at the village school the previous year and it rapidly became apparent she would share John's voracious appetite for the printed word.

"No, I'll stay here. That way I can see him first."

Anna smiled and went back into the kitchen. Satisfied the stew was still simmering, the cake was undisturbed, and the table was ready, there was little left to do but wait. She understood Lily's disquiet. Truth be told, she didn't enjoy John's departures much herself. She missed lying next to him at night, missed his laugh, just missed him.

"He's here! He's here! " Lily's enthusiasm likely ensured that even the neighbors were aware of John's homecoming. She heard the door unlatch and made it to the parlor just in time to see her run outside and throw herself at him. Wherever Lily went Henry was bound to follow, and so he was right behind.

"Papa! It's my birthday!

John laughed. "Right you are." He took a parcel out from under his arm. "And what do you suppose I've got here?"

"A present!" Henry cried, jumping up and down.

"Go put it by your plate and wash for dinner."

"Yes, Papa." He ran off back into the house.

He gazed down at his daughter, who had wrapped her arms around his waist and attached herself to his side. "You're awfully quiet, Lily-pad."

"I'm just happy you're home. I wish you didn't have to go."

"We all have our duties. But I do miss you too." He bent down to drop a kiss on her head. "Go wash for dinner and see that your brother does a proper job of it too."

She squeezed him once more and went back inside. He shifted his attention to Anna, who had waited for him in the doorway.

"Alone at last," he said with a mischievous grin. It had become something of a private joke between them over the years, and every time he said it her heart skipped a beat, just as it had the first time.

"Almost," she answered, her own grin full of possibilities for later.

Making no attempt to avoid brushing against her, he came in and shut the door. He kissed her then, slowly and deeply, his hands wandering over her possessively. Later, indeed.

He pulled back just as Henry came bounding into the room. "Look, Papa! Granny sent me a train!"

"I was desperate," she said to John's quizzical expression. "You have no idea what this morning was like."

He nodded in sympathy and then addressed Henry. "That seems like a fine train. You'll have to show it to me after dinner. Go set it down now and come to the table."

He followed Anna into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and removing his tie and collar. "That's a pretty dress. I don't think I've seen that one before."

"Thank you. Your mother sent it along with Henry's train. It was so kind of her. It's nice to have something new without big panels in the front."

"I wouldn't get rid of all of those just yet," he replied with a wink.

A cheeky reply died on her tongue as she was interrupted by Lily. "Why would you have a dress with big panels in the front?"

Ignoring John's chuckle, she turned to her. "To fit you under, poppet, while you were growing in my belly," she answered, pinching Lily's nose affectionately. "You'll have to show Papa your new dress from Granny later on."

"It's so pretty! Just like Mama's."

Everyone took their place at the table and they had a pleasant dinner together. Henry proudly showed his father where had sampled his cake, but John didn't have the heart to scold him for it. He excitedly opened his presents, receiving a football from his parents, a tin of crayons and drawing paper from Anna's mother, and sweets from her sister. Finally he opened the parcel that his father gave him.

"A storybook! Read it?"

John glanced over at Anna, who nodded and stood to begin clearing the dishes. "I certainly will. Let's all go into the parlor."

He sat down in his chair. Lily clamored in with him, though she was nearly too big anymore. Henry perched on the ottoman, making room for himself next to his father's feet. John opened the book and Anna listened to his soft Irish burr as he read to them:

_Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump , on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is some other way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. _

Lily giggled at this. With a warm smile, he continued:

_And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh. _

She looked up from her mending half an hour later as his voice trailed off. "Anna," he called softly. She got up and came around the side of his chair to see that both of the children were fast asleep, no doubt worn out by the commotion of the day. She reached over and lifted Lily from him while he rose, taking care to gently ease his leg out from where Henry's head had come to rest on it. She then placed her back down on the chair. Lily stirred a bit, shifted, and stilled again. Anna went to the basket in the corner and returned with blankets. She covered them both, letting her hand linger in Henry's curls. They would have to be cut soon—John had been hinting at it for weeks—but she wasn't looking forward to the day when he wouldn't look like her baby anymore.

Satisfied they were warm and comfortable, she smiled at John and was not at all surprised to see the twinkle in his eye. "Well, "she said, forcing her voice to stay impassive, "those dinner dishes aren't just going to wash themselves." She only got a half step away when his arm darted out and caught her around the waist. He silenced her surprised squeak with his lips.

"The washing up can wait," he murmured into her ear. "I don't know that I can say the same for myself." She trembled against him.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked coyly.

Too preoccupied to answer her back, he urged her down to their room, quietly closing the door behind them. She locked her arms around his neck as he crushed her to him

"John," she gasped when he began nipping at her throat, "you've only been gone three days."

"Three days too long" he rumbled against her skin while pressing tightly against her. She could hardly argue with that. After getting rid of his waistcoat she pushed his braces down and began unbuttoning his shirt, but he pulled away and impatiently yanked it over his head, tossing it on the floor and setting himself to work on her dress. In a flash it was gone and his practiced hands were unhooking her corset and removing the rest of her layers with a desperate efficiency.

She drew him over to the bed and unfastened his trousers, slipping her hands inside to tease him before laying back and reaching out in invitation. He sat down on the edge and hurriedly kicked off the last of his clothing. Turning to move over her, he stopped suddenly. The sight of her, aroused and welcoming, made his chest tighten. "God, I missed you," he sighed.

She knew they didn't have time to linger—the children could wake up at any moment—but she couldn't help taking just a minute to savor him. She sat up and clutched tightly at the broad shoulders and strong chest she loved so much. He held on to her just as securely, resting his cheek on her hair and breathing her in. She maneuvered herself into his lap and the evidence of his desire instantly brought her back to their previous fervor.

She pushed him all the way on to the bed and then down, setting herself above him and relishing the hunger in his dark, dark eyes. "I missed you too," she whispered huskily in his ear, biting gently at the lobe and smiling at his groan. She knew how much he loved it when she took control. She had been shy that first time in their little room in Scarborough when he coaxed her atop him and showed her how, but his obvious enjoyment and the amazing sensations easily helped her past her nerves. It had become a great favorite of theirs, especially when his leg was playing up or they were short on time.

He ran his hands up her legs and over her hips before pausing to span her waist, perhaps no longer quite so narrow but still admirable for a mother of two who was nearing 40 more quickly than she cared to acknowledge. He leaned her forward and let his touch roam over her heatedly, making sure to visit all of her favorite spots as she ground against him. Unable to wait an instant longer she rose and took him inside her, shuddering at the feeling of completion that always came when they were joined. She had no capacity left for finesse and moved frenetically above him, pausing only briefly to capture his cry in her mouth before picking up again, intent on reaching her own release. It was not far off—his fingertips grazed her center and moments later she arched back and let out a low moan. She fell against him and they shared a long kiss, intimately replaying what their bodies had just done.

She slid over to his side and he gently traced patterns on her shoulder until his breathing slowed and evened out. Anna lay contentedly for several minutes until she heard noise coming from the parlor. He dragged his eyes open but she placed a hand on his chest, stilling him. "I'll go," she whispered, brushing a kiss across his lips. "Get some rest. I'll wake you for supper."

She dressed hastily and headed back down the hall. Henry was still out but she found Lily awake, sitting up in John's chair.

"Where is Papa?" she asked, yawning.

"He's having a nap, darling." At this, Lily rolled over and settled back down, not yet done with hers either.

Watching them, Anna couldn't help being struck by how rich her life really was. She considered their cozy little cottage, with Henry's train abandoned on the floor, John and Lily's books piled up on the shelves, and her mending in a heap on the rocking chair. She could still feel her loving husband on her skin, could see their beautiful, healthy children in front of her, and for a moment she was nearly overcome.

She thought about how easily this might never have happened. What if she hadn't been able make him understand? What if they had lost faith or couldn't endure those long years apart? It had been a slow, sometimes difficult road, and at some points she had nothing more than hope to cling to, but as she basked now in the warmth of their happy family she knew with complete certainty that it had all been worth the wait.


End file.
